Aphotic Sage
by Thrifty-Crimson
Summary: Hermione respected all of her professors, but none more so than the brooding, talented, possible Death Eater, Professor Dolohov. Antonin never paid attention to any of his students until he developed an ill-fated, unwelcome, utterly bizarre relationship with a young Hermione Granger.
1. Year One

**Year One: The Beginning**

* * *

Hogwarts was nothing like Hermione had ever imagined. She didn't think she would have ever been able to even dream it up; it was so magnificent.

At the young age of eleven, she had gotten the surprise of her lifetime when a severe looking woman named Professor McGonagall had appeared on her doorstep with answers to her questions involving strange events in her life and a letter of invitation to some magical school with her name in cursive on it.

But it was an entirely different concept now that she was actually there. The castle was so beautiful; literally magical. Hogwarts: A History had told her enough about it. She had even read it five times. And she found herself swelling with the different emotions bouncing around inside of her tiny body at the new sights surrounding her.

This was the turning point of her entire existence. She was a witch. She was going to learn actual spells and potions and take in as much as her thriving mind could take.

She walked into the Great Hall, staring knowingly at the ceiling she had heard so much about in Hogwarts: A History. She even commented on it to the girl next to her who had been staring in awe and amazement at it. Hermione loved being able to spread her knowledge with others. Especially now when it came to magic. She wanted to know as much as she could about it anyways.

Looking around at her new peers for a moment, she snapped back to the front of the hall as she listened politely to Professor McGonagall and the Sorting Hat's song, before watching the sorting ceremony start until finally she heard-

"Granger, Hermione."

She rushed up the stairs in a hurry, eager to see where she'd finally belong. Where she would call home for the next seven years. As the hat was placed on top of her curls, she listened to the foreign voice inside her head debate with itself, trying to pinpoint where she would be best suited.

"Hmm… a Ravenclaw longing to learn, a Slytherin mind, Hufflepuff loyalty, and a Gryffindor heart. What a complication you are. I suppose I'll have to leave it up to you. You only get to pick once so you better make it count."

Hermione's heart was racing. All four houses? She'd fit into all four houses? How was she supposed to choose? The hat was supposed to choose for her!

"Doesn't work that way, missy," the hat reminded her. "So what's your decision?"

It didn't take Hermione too long to decide. Ravenclaw sounded lovely; she'd always loved books. And cleverness and loyalty were admirable traits as well. But didn't bravery and courage sound wonderful? To be able to have friends and support them. To speak her mind. To protect and help others with her knowledge. That's all she wanted.

"As I suspected. Well then, better be – _Gryffindor_!"

Beaming, Hermione flounced off the stool after the hat was removed and sat herself next to a redhead with a large P on his chest. Most likely a Prefect. She'd be able to ask him loads of questions later.

When the ceremony was finally over, Hermione saw her chance to interrogate the Prefect next to her, who she learned was named Percy Weasley, older brother to the boy she had met earlier on the train. They discussed the curriculum and what she'd better be prepared to study for her first year until Hermione saw the chance to ask the question she had been really curious about.

"What about the professors?" This question seemed to glean a lot of surrounding attention, especially from other first years who were wondering the same thing as she. Percy briefly explained each professor, letting them know the key points about the ones they'll have this year.

McGonagall: Head of Gryffindor House, but unbiased (unless it comes to Quiddich). Very strict and rule oriented but polite and respectful to everyone. She teaches Transfiguration. Hermione didn't think she'd have too much trouble with her.

Flitwick: Head of Ravenclaw House, very friendly and bubbly, part goblin. He teaches Charms and Hermione knew she'd flourish in that class. He seemed like the kind of professor who would greatly appreciate her intelligence, especially as a former Ravenclaw.

Sinistra: Astronomy Professor, most didn't have anything bad to say about her, but nothing overtly positive either. Though many older male students admitted to having something of a crush on her. Hermione had rolled her eyes; boys were so transparent.

Sprout: Head of Hufflepuff House, also friendly and a well-liked instructor. She was the Herbology teacher and while Hermione had never been very interested in plants, she didn't see herself having a problem with this course either.

Quirrell: The current Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Apparently no one lasted longer than a year for some strange reason but this man didn't look like he'd last a week. He was trembling so hard Hermione could see him shake from her seat.

Snape: Head of Slytherin House and Potion's Master. No one had a single good thing to say about him. Biased against anyone who isn't Slytherin, but especially Gryffindors. Very strict, no-nonsense sort of man. Most only had insults to hurl at him instead of anything useful that Hermione could have used. Like how to gain his approval.

And finally there was Professor Dolohov. Percy seemed kind of reluctant to talk about the serious looking man sitting on the other side of Professor McGonagall. But he told the listening group of first years that he was the Magical Theory Professor, but that for the first four years of their schooling, he'd be teaching them the history of magic.

Hermione tried to press him for more information; history was one of her favorite subjects when she was still in a Muggle school. Those surrounding them pestered him with questions as well until he finally relented,

"Alright, alright! He's not a bad professor, very fair if anything. And he does teach an interesting subject. It's just the rumors about him that give him a bad reputation."

"Rumors?" An Irish boy sitting across the table from Hermione asked. Percy tried ignoring the question but his younger twin brothers were apparently more than happy to answer the question in his stead,

"You lot are talking about Dolohov, right?"

"Use to be a Death Eater, he did."

"Part of You-Know-Who's Inner Circle."

"No one knows why he left though."

"They don't even know why he's here."

"All we know is that he's a dangerous bloke-"

They finished in unison, "And you don't wanna be on his bad side."

A brief silence fell over their section of the table before the boy Hermione knew to be Harry Potter spoke up and asked, "If he's so dangerous… why is he a professor?"

But no one answered his question, and with another look up to the Head Table, Hermione watched the dark man continue to eat his food in absolute silence, his gaze never leaving the vicinity of the table.

The thoughts of the dark professor vanished as her classes began though.

* * *

Her first few classes were utterly fascinating but by Wednesday, Hermione was ready for more. And luckily that morning they would have their very first History of Magic class with the reputed Professor Dolohov. Most of the talk she had heard about him was only rumors like from the welcoming feast. No one had any proof that he was anything but a qualified instructor, so Hermione decided she was excited for his class regardless.

As the Gryffindor first years made their way to his classroom on the 3rd floor, the only current open classroom on that floor, they saw the Slytherins already waiting outside of the closed door. They looked irritated at having to wait, but when one of her housemates asked if the door was unlocked, no one answered.

They stood outside the room for close to five minutes, and class was due to begin any minute now. Hermione felt herself growing overly annoyed at the fact that no one had just _checked_ to see if he was already in the classroom. Just as she debated on doing it herself, she felt the others around her go dead quiet.

"Is there a reason," she heard a deep masculine voice sound from directly behind her, "That we've all conjugated outside of my door?"

The students surrounding her shuffled out of the way and Hermione felt herself taking several measured steps out of the way as well, only looking up as a dark figure swept past her and threw open the doors to the classroom.

Everyone scrambled in after him as they heard the same voice say, "Find a seat." Hermione already knew she wanted to be up front and immediately went to catch a seat before they were taken. She internally cheered as the desk directly front and center was still opened.

Getting herself settled and lowering her bag to the floor, she was ready to take all her materials out when the professor spoke yet again in his crisp yet low voice, "Take out only a single quill."

Hermione could feel the confusion and hesitation drifting around the room, but quickly did as he said, taking out the nicest quill she had gotten from Diagon Alley. When the rest of her peers had done the same, the voice sounded out again, "Trace your first and last name, in print, on the top of your desk."

Tentatively, the room followed his directions. Hermione meticulously made sure that the way she did it was clear, even though she couldn't really see what her work looked like. But whatever this test was, she was definitely going to pass it.

When it was finished, she set her quill down on her desk and looked up to see Professor Dolohov standing next to his desk, watching everyone else complete the simple task. This was her first time truly seeing him up close and it was completely different from afar.

He was a very tall man, she noticed. Not as tall as the half-giant Hagrid, but he had very long legs. And had very dark coloring. His hair and eyes were dark, his skin was a light olive shade, and even his robes were a deep burgundy.

She saw him glance out of the corner of his eye to something on his desk, before he picked up a piece of parchment lying on it. He gazed at it before briefly flicking his gaze up to sweep the classroom at different intervals. The wheels in Hermione's mind were turning as she tried to figure out what he was doing.

And then it hit her.

"Can anyone tell me what I've just done?" She heard the professor ask. Her hand instantly went straight up into the air. Her eyes met his and she saw him glance at the paper before saying, "Yes Miss Granger?"

She knew it. "You've just had us make a seating chart, sir." He looked at her for a moment longer before simply replying,

"Five points to Gryffindor."

Hermione was a little miffed that she hadn't received better praise for answering the question correctly, but accepted that she had received _something_ for it. And House points were important to her housemates. She shook her mind clear though, when she heard the professor begin to speak again.

"In this class, until your fifth year, you will be learning the origins and properties of magic, and of the wizarding world that we currently inhabit. It is designed to induct you into the introduction of theory which is used in different forms of magic and the creation of new spells. Ultimately, it will prepare you for your 6th and 7th year N.E.W.T's."

He continued to explain several of the topics that they would be covering this year, most of which had to do with the origins of magic and Hermione was enraptured. This is what she wanted to know about, the world she was now a part of. And this would be the class to teach her all about it.

She was beside herself with glee.

And then she heard his voice drop even lower, if that were possible. "Now, I don't tend to have many personal rules about my classroom besides those that are already explicitly enforced, but there is one issue that I will _not_ tolerate, argue, or ignore."

He several feet in front of her, his arms crossed as his serious expression gained the focus of every single student in the room. Was this what the Weasley twins had meant when they said he could be dangerous? The feel of the room just seemed to drop several degrees.

"There will be no bigotry in my presence, inside or outside of this room. I do not want to see any form of bullying, hear any slur of any kind, regardless of House, race, or _birth_." He seemed to glare in the direction of the Slytherins on the final word and Hermione felt herself shiver. She knew almost every school had a problem with bullies, but why did Professor Dolohov react so strongly to it?

But her silent question went unanswered as he resumed his previous explanation of the class itself. By the time he dismissed the class, the others seemed glad to be leaving the room but Hermione let herself linger a bit.

She watched Professor Dolohov lean over his desk, looking up something in a book, before she saw his gaze shift and lock onto her own. Hermione froze at the intensity she saw in his black eyes. Bottomless, was the first word that came to mind.

"Was there something you needed, Miss Granger?" She heard him ask, breaking her out of her trance. But what surprised her was that he didn't ask the question unkindly, but with what might have been curiosity.

"No, sir."

He nodded slightly before dropping his eyes back down to the text on his desk, "Then enjoy the rest of your day."

Perplexed, Hermione mumbled out a brief, "You too, professor," before walking out of his room. Maybe everyone was wrong about Professor Dolohov. He did seem to have that dark aura surrounding him, but he seemed very kind regardless. In a cool sort of way, she decided.

Yes, that was it. Professor Dolohov was just a bit off putting. Misjudged, if anything.

* * *

 _Another year._

Antonin repressed the sigh he had felt building in his lungs and instead took a drink of his tea. The new term had started a few weeks ago and he felt the same mundane routine setting in as the hours ticked by. The only thing deviating from the usual scenery of Hogwarts was the new first years.

Harry Potter was one of them. Trying not to outwardly sneer, Antonin dipped back into his breakfast, hoping that no one noticed his brief lapse.

It wasn't that he disliked the boy, like Snape obviously did. He just wished the boy had been born years before he had been. Maybe if he had destroyed the Dark Lord then, Antonin wouldn't be stuck living this life as a Hogwart's professor.

Or maybe he would be. Merlin knows that it could have been much, much worse. He could always be in Azkaban instead. But he had taken his mother's advice and fled to Dumbledore for sanctuary. And he had received it, at a price, of course.

He would teach the next generations of witches and wizards, protect them as was his duty, and never again associate with those suspected or proven to have had ties with the Dark side.

The latter he didn't have much of a problem with. He could live the rest of his life without seeing certain individuals ever again. Especially from _that_ group of sycophants.

But now he was stuck. If he even thought about leaving his place in Hogwarts, he'd be under the scrutiny of the Ministry. Sadly, the Headmaster was the only reason that the Ministry had glazed over him and his suspected crimes after the Dark Lord fell.

Because why would the great Albus Dumbledore harbor a known Death Eater?

Sneaking a glance down the table, Antonin grimaced at the sight of Snape before returning to his breakfast. _Why indeed_ , he thought bitterly.

Finishing the rest of meal in his usual silence, he stood from his seat and made his way to his classroom. He had Gryffindor and Slytherin first years today if his memory served correct. Which it usually did. Settling into his desk, he didn't bother looking up when the students began to trickle in, too busy going over his lecture notes for the next hour.

"Shut it, know-it-all. No one cares about the goblin rebellions anymore." Antonin's eyes shot up as he watched the youngest Weasley boy walk into the classroom followed closely by Potter with a glaring Miss Granger bringing up the rear.

"But goblins are still treated this way today! How can you not care about that in the slightest-"

"Because I just don't! And if you weren't so bloody obnoxious, you'd get that and leave me alo-"

"Fifteen points from Gryffindor," Antonin barked out, causing the two boys to start and drop their bags.

"What for-"

 _First years_ , he thought exasperatedly, "I do believe that I've stated before I don't enjoy repeating myself, Mr. Weasley. Now take your seat." As he watched the grumbling boy and his friend do as he said, he felt the familiar prickling sensation of someone watching him. Looking over, he met the big, brown eyes of the Granger girl. She visibly gathered herself and averted her eyes, taking her own seat in the front of the room.

 _Odd_ , he thought briefly before launching straight into his lecture. When he was finished, and assigned them quiet reading for the remainder of the class, Antonin sat at his desk and casually studied some of the students in the room.

He knew most of the Slytherins already, having worked closely with their parents and grandparents in the past. So, he shifted his attention back to the Gryffindors. Weasley, Longbottom, Patil, Potter, Brown, Finnegan, Thomas, Dunbar, and Granger…

Antonin didn't make a habit of noticing students past the professional setting. He never truly had that problem before, especially since no students ever really stood out to him. Occasionally he'd get the trouble maker who didn't want to follow his rules, but several weeks of detention with Filch usually solved that.

But now he was noticing this girl. Hermione Granger. He didn't purposely do it, she just… popped out at him. He could pick her out of crowd, not just because of her wild mane of curls, but because she was always alone. Perhaps that was the reason he paid so much attention to her. He understood what it was like to be alone. And he didn't like the fact an eleven-year-old girl was having to experience that feeling.

Especially since she was a Muggleborn and in her first year at a wizarding school. That transition alone was hard enough, but to have to go through it alone… Antonin wasn't use to feeling sympathy or concern, but in this case, he did. It wasn't the worse thing either; strange and tedious if anything.

But he just felt the urge to watch over her. Spurning him to take points from her own ignorant classmates, giving her extra points for questions that didn't require it, and just being respectful to her whenever he could. It wasn't much, but it made him feel slightly better when she smiled.

Shaking his head clear, he dismissed the class, sparing one last look at the girl's curly head before redirecting his attention to his next classes lecture on shared magic. Much more interesting than the establishment of magical monarchies.

Antonin did enjoy teaching to an extent, but he would rather be doing his own research or bettering himself as a wizard. There was still so much knowledge to gain and he didn't always possess the time to look into it between classes, patrols, and countless meetings. He usually did accomplish some over the summers but it wasn't as fulfilling as he had once pictured his life to be.

His inner musings of the life he could have had were interrupted as he heard a slight crashing sound outside of his closed doors and what appeared to be girlish giggles. Sighing, he pushed himself out of his chair and walked from behind his desk, taking measured steps to his door, still listening as he gripped the handle.

"What a klutz."

"Watch where you're going Granger." Yanking the door open, Antonin looked at the two Slytherin girl's standing in front of him. In his peripheral, he could see Miss Granger on the floor, picking up her scattered papers and books.

Narrowing his eyes at the skittish students, he growled out, "Twenty points from Slytherin. Remove yourselves from my vicinity before I decide to double it." The girls didn't have to be told twice and fled down the corridor, their shoes echoing around them. Antonin looked at the girl still struggling to pick up all of her belongings before softly uttering,

"Miss Granger." She paused her movements but didn't turn to look up at him. He could hear her trying to prevent the sniffles that continuously escaped from her. She was trying not to actively cry, he told himself. Especially not in front of him. He wasn't Sprout or even McGonagall. He didn't do crying students. He didn't comfort.

Instead, he crouched down next to her and told her to, "Open your bag." She tilted her head to look him in the eye, her little brows furrowing before she looked back down at the mess inside her small messenger bag. But she didn't question him and did as he said. And with a slight flick of his wrist and a whispered spell, all of the materials that had previously been spread across the floor outside his door were neatly arranging themselves back inside of her bag. The spilled ink returned inside their wells and floated into their respective pouches, the loose leaf parchment arranged themselves among her books, and finally the quills slid delicately into place before the leather flap closed the bag.

Standing back up, he offered the stunned girl, still on her knees, his hand. She looked at his extended limb for a moment before sliding her much smaller hand into his and allowing him to help her off of the castle floor. She was such a tiny thing, he noticed. Barely level with his chest. Those curls were all the place as well. But her eyes were intelligent. They were huge, filling up her small face, and reflected everything little emotion inside of them. She was truly a Gryffindor; they were never good at hiding whatever they were feeling.

"Thank you, Professor," he heard her whisper. She wiped the back of her hand across her face before looking back up at him, freely meeting his own gaze. The corners of her eyes were a little shiny, but she didn't look on the brink of tears anymore.

"Your welcome, Miss Granger," he responded politely. He watched as she seemed to heave the now organized bag onto her shoulder. How heavy was it? She was positively straining underneath of it. He had seen several different texts and concluded that it was most likely weighed down by them.

Merlin knows why he cares. Or why he said what he did next. "Take out your wand, Miss Granger." She looked up at him in surprise but did as he asked. "Now point it at your bag and say ' _Leviore'._ " She did and he could visibly see her back straighten as the weight on her shoulder decreased substantially.

"Wha- What was that, Professor?" She asked, looking up at him in complete awe. Antonin shifted slightly at the change in her expression before explaining,

"The Lightened Load charm. Works on most inanimate objects, except ones that already have magical properties or curses on them." She continued to stare up at him like he had just been the one to tell her that she was a witch. Growing uncomfortable, he turned to go back to his classroom, but not before reminding her, "Don't you have Herbology soon, Miss Granger?"

He heard her audibly gasp and throw out a hasty, "Thank you again professor," before her footsteps disappeared down the corridor. It wasn't until he was in the privacy of his empty room that Antonin allowed himself to crack a brief smile.

 _First years._

* * *

Hermione wasn't that disconcerted that she hadn't made any friends yet. It was the same problem she had had in regular Muggle school. The only difference here was that her peers didn't really respect the fact that she was intelligent…

It caused her a lot of stress and made her something of a target for anyone and everyone. Thinking back to one particular day, she remembered the humility she felt when those two Slytherin girls had tripped her outside of the classroom. They had continued to laugh and kick her belongings across the floor and it took all of her determination not to cry.

And to her embarrassment, that was how Professor Dolohov had found her. Kneeling on the floor, close to tears, while she was being laughed at. But true to his word, he had docked points and send her tormentors running.

Then he had helped her… At eye level, Hermione thought the professor to be very distinguished looking. She decided he had a handsome face, and on closer inspection, his eyes weren't black, just a very dark brown. And he was kind, in his own way. He didn't offer soothing words or anything of the like, but instead helped her in his own way.

The spell he had told her about was very handy as well. She could be able to use it frequently, especially with all the books she enjoyed borrowing from the library. So, Hermione checked another box on her mental list about Professor Dolohov. Misjudged, respectful, polite, and kind. He wasn't perfect, she noted. Withdrawn, often brooding even, and his ability to flip like a switch and be seen as a dangerous person were concerning. It especially didn't help the rumors about him. But, to her, the positives made up for the negatives.

Plus, his class was one of the more interesting ones.

Sure, most of her peers probably loved Transfiguration and Charms, and she did as well, but for a Muggleborn, learning about the world she was part of now was more important than wand waving.

Smiling to herself, Hermione left the library and prepared to head to Transfiguration. She wanted to be one of the first people there so that she could ask Professor McGonagall about something she had just read about today in one of the many books she had devoured before class.

Until she found herself stuck on the moving staircases.

Huffing in frustration, she debated on just jumping to reach the set she needed to be on, when the one she was currently on turned in the complete opposite direction, connecting to the stairs coming from the third floor.

Hermione was hanging onto the bannister with dear life but looked up when the sound of footfalls descended the now adjourning stairwell. She recognized the dark figure immediately and sheepishly said,

"Hello Professor Dolohov…" He stepped onto the staircase she had found herself stuck on and paused, looking down at her with his usual composed expression.

"Don't you have class in a few minutes Miss Granger?" He asked slowly, holding her gaze as the stairwell began to move again at random. Hermione tightened her grip on the bannister but the professor merely stood there, not even swaying as they moved.

"Yes, sir, Transfiguration. But I've gotten… stuck…" She saw him raise an eyebrow and look from her to the railing she was holding onto for dear life.

"To the bannister?" Hermione breathed out a small laugh at his slight jest and shook her head before answering,

"No, sir. On the staircase." He nodded his head in understanding, before asking,

"How many times have you read Hogwarts: A History, Miss Granger?" _What?_ Hermione didn't get why he was asking her _that_ at this moment. But responded promptly,

"Five times, sir." Again, he merely gave a small nod and asking another question,

"And what do you remember about the section regarding the castle itself? Chapter Eight, I believe." Hermione racked her brain her a moment and as the realization hit her, she released the bannister and turning her entire body to face the older wizard.

"The castle's sentient!" And the staircase began to slow down, almost like it had heard her. She looked back up and notice the shadow of a smile on Professor Dolohov's face.

"Indeed it is. So then, where did you want to go, Miss Granger?"

Eagerly, Hermione blurted out, "I need to get to the sixth floor before I'm late for class." And the staircase lurched forward at her demands, throwing her directly into her professor's chest.

When the stairwell finally ceased moving, Hermione pulled away from the older man hesitantly, almost afraid to see his reaction. "Miss Granger…" She heard him begin and closed her eyes, expecting punishment for her actions.

"The staircases take promptness very seriously. Next time, you merely just have to politely inform them where you'd like to go." Was there a teasing edge to his tone? Hermione opened her eyes and looked up, but the professor was already going down the stairs, away from her.

"Professor," she started, causing him to stop and turn towards her slightly. "That spell you told me about the other day… Could it be used on people?" She hadn't been able to find anything about the spell in any of the textbooks she had gone through and this question had been driving her crazy.

"It could… But the side effects can be," he paused, searching for the right word. "Strange."

"Oh." She shuffled slightly before looking back at his waiting expression. "Thank you again, sir."

"Not a problem, Miss Granger." And then he was leaving again, traveling down the staircases as the realigned to meet him. Hermione watched him for a few moments longer before remembering that she did indeed have class and could be late if she didn't hurry.

Everyone was wrong about Professor Dolohov, she thought as she climbed the responding staircases. How could anyone as kind as him do anything so evil like be a Death Eater for You-Know-Who? Preposterous.

* * *

It was Halloween night. A troll was found to be inside the castle. And now Antonin found himself standing in a girl's bathroom, staring at Miss Granger, Messrs. Weasley and Potter, and an unconscious mountain troll.

McGonagall was asking them what had happened, as was her duty as Deputy Headmistress and the three's Head of House. Snape was inspecting the unconscious beast and Antonin, well, he was watching Miss Granger lie threw her teeth.

It was only to protect the two idiot boys beside her, but still… It caused an irrational anger to boil beneath the surface of his skin. She was lying to _him_ ; lying to protect _them._

Besides being pointless to lie to a man who had tortured and murdered people for a living, just the thought of her wasting her potential, her future, just to protect these two miscreants was enough to give him the urge to strangle them before such a tragedy could occur.

Antonin resisted the impulse to groan and cover his face in his hands. Why the bloody hell was a first year, slip of girl causing previous violent tendencies to reappear in him? He had gone twelve years without thinking too much on the subject and now he suddenly wanted to wrap his hands around the necks of two _eleven-year-olds_ and watch the life leave their eyes?

 _Merlin and Morgana_ … What was happening to him?

He knew he was dangerous man but to children? He'd never even considered harming a child before, let alone having done so. Antonin liked to think he wasn't an absolute monster. Though maybe he was. These violent thoughts directed at schoolboys over a bloody chit of a girl were _more_ than enough proof.

And more importantly, why did he even care? Who his students chose to be friends with was of no concern to him. Especially not this one. If anything, he should be glad that she won't be alone anymore. But the tiny voice in the back of his mind just _had_ to point out that he had been helping her well enough.

"I'm very disappointed with you, Miss Granger. Now return to your dormitory. I'm sure Professor Dolohov will be gracious enough to escort you there." _No. No Professor Dolohov does not want to be gracious in this moment. He's a little busy having a mental struggle at the moment._

Turning around and exiting the restroom, he allowed himself to outwardly scowl as he made certain the soft footsteps of his student stayed well _behind_ him. He wasn't in the mood to explain his frustration to the girl who was apparently causing it.

So they walked through the corridors, the only sound coming from the echo of their steps; his steady and hers frantic. He knew he walking quickly, it was natural for him to take long strides, so he slowed slightly. He heard her breath of relief as her steps began to sound less hurried. _Bloody hell_ … Now he was adjusting the way he walked for this girl?

Finally, they were approaching Gryffindor Tower and Antonin could return to his room to indulge himself in several strong glasses of firewhiskey. After the day he had, he thought he deserved it.

But nothing could be that simple.

Just as he was about to turn and leave the girl to her dorm, he caught the quiet tones of, "I'm sorry if I've disappointed you as well, Professor Dolohov…" He wanted to groan, but thankfully had enough self-control to stifle that.

"I'm not disappointed at the events that occurred, Miss Granger. I'm disappointed that you lied." _To me_ , his traitorous brain added. He turned slightly and saw her hang her head in embarrassment.

"They saved my life, sir…" He cursed Gryffindor honor.

"It doesn't give you an excuse-" He started angrily, but stopped himself. He was angry, furious really, and incredibly frustrated, but he would not take that out of her. Not little Hermione Granger who never looked at him in fear or distrust.

Her wide eyes were staring directly at him now, tears beginning to well up in them yet again. Only this time, he suspected he was an added cause to it.

"In the future, Miss Granger, refrain from at least lying to me," he compromised with her. She seemed to perk up at his words in any case. Or maybe it was just because he had taken a softer tone with her. Still… he couldn't stop the increase in annoying questions from bouncing around his exhausted mind. Most of them having to do with why he was even compromising in the first place.

"Yes, professor, but…" She frowned slightly before asking, "Why only you?"

"Because I can tell." Final. And she appeared to accept his words as she nodded and wished him a goodnight before disappearing behind the Fat Lady's portrait.

Antonin walked through the halls, wondering what sins he had committed to enter this new level of hell.

 _Like he didn't already know._

* * *

The end of her first year appeared quicker than Hermione had thought possible. After the whole debacles with Snape, Fluffy, and Quirrell/You-Know-Who, Hermione was ready for a summer break. But, at least she had made friends. Harry and Ron weren't what she had expected, but she appreciated them nonetheless.

They made her feel like Hogwarts was much more of home than before.

There was so much to love about the school, from the classes and abundance of knowledge she could acquire, to the different quirks of the castle itself, to the various people she had met and gotten to interact with on a day-to-day basis.

Her housemates had grown on her after the incident during Halloween and she felt much more included amongst her fellow Gryffindors. Though maybe being on Fred and George Weasley's good side wasn't so different from their bad side… Oh well, at least they were still nice about it.

And the Professors were amazing as well. Especially since Snape didn't turn out to be such a horrible man in the end. Though she could see how Harry would get the idea. He certainly wasn't the most pleasant man. Very surly, just as Percy Weasley had warned her during the welcoming feast months ago.

Although he had been very wrong about Professor Dolohov. After her professor had warned her against lying to him Halloween night, she felt a new found bout of respect for the man. All of his classes were engaging and full of useful information. He himself was obviously a brilliant wizard. And he was such a kind man.

He was very talented and perceptive and Hermione could only hope to reach that level one day. It seemed like a good skill set to possess. She wondered if he might teach her to detect lies one day…

She smiled slightly, thinking that there would be plenty of time for that later on. She still had another six years to look forward to after all.

Hermione couldn't wait to experience it all.


	2. Year Two

**Year Two**

* * *

The first week of classes were always interesting to Antonin. They usually gave him an inkling as to how the rest of the year would go by. As of now? Despondency.

If Dumbledore had hired someone like Antonin while he was still here, he would obviously question the logic behind it, but accept the elder wizard's decision because it was precisely the same thing that he himself had gone through.

But what in Merlin's name possessed this old coot to hire Gilderoy ' _bloody'_ Lockhart…

Suspected Death Eaters? Questionable. Narcissistic, Idiotic, Con Artists? _No._ He put his foot down on that one.

Antonin knew what to expect from his own kind. It was how he had lasted so long with the surly Potion's Master. Granted, he didn't particularly like the man, and he especially did not trust him, but he could work with him. Hell, he would work with his racist, sociopathic ex-colleagues again. But all he wanted to do with _this_ moron was throttle him until he stopped rambling about his many misadventures and how he could better each professors subject.

 _I swear if he comes over here…_

"Professor Dolohov! You've been unusually quiet! What do you think about adding the riots of the Fantastical Fairies to your curriculum? I'm sure your students could benefit-"

Antonin shot the man a murderous glare before growling out, "My students will _benefit_ from facts not fairytales, _professor_." He spat the blond's newfound title out and the meeting room when deathly silent. _Good_ , Antonin thought darkly. _It needed it_.

"Ah yes…" The man rung his hands nervously under the dark wizard's look before averting himself away. "Moving on!"

 _What a tosser_ … Antonin internally groaned that the meeting was still being corralled by this idiot instead of the Headmaster who was merely looking on in amusement. Of course he would find this situation hilarious.

At least Lockhart would most likely steer clear of the theory Professor from now on. Unless he truly doesn't possess a single brain cell like McGonagall had previously suggested upon first meeting.

Although, most of the professors gave lead way to the solemn man anyways. The only ones who would openly converse with him were Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid, and Flitwick on occasion. Most of the others merely tolerated his presence. But it did seem to appear he'd gotten on a few good sides with his comment to Lockhart…

Both Sprout and Sinistra had sent him sympathetic looks at his effort to shut the man up; even Snape looked as though he had wished Antonin's words had permanently silenced the flashy man.

Pity it didn't work.

Pity he couldn't just kill the man and be rid of him.

But he was supposed to be " _reformed_ " or whatever the hell that implied. And he did owe Dumbledore. For a _lot_ really. So, biting back the scathing remarks held on the tip of his tongue, he suffered through the rest of the staff meeting and the bloody idiot it included; silently.

When it was finally over, he actually sighed in audible relief, earning an amused glance from the professor on his left, Vector, who looked ready to bolt as well. He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment before standing to leave. But as he walked out the door, the smiling witch from earlier had caught up with him.

"I'm surprised Albus took so long to dismiss us this time. I think he purposely wanted Lockhart to torture us but for what reason, I'm not quite sure." Antonin paused slightly, looking down at the shorter woman. Vector had only conversed on occasion with him, but less than any of the others he usually spoke with. He had always figured she was just intimidated by him like all the others. What brought this on now?

"It's not very surprising at all," he said hesitantly, before finishing more confidently, "the old's man been senile for a while now." Vector exploded into laughter at his words.

"I always knew you secretly had a sense of humor, Antonin." The man in question raised an eyebrow but said nothing as they continued walking the halls. Vector would occasionally make more small talk which caused slight discomfort for Antonin. He wasn't that good at conversing with others, not so freely anyways. He had always been a quiet, private man.

It wasn't until they heard the raised voices of children that he perked up. Students were supposed to be in bed at this hour. The pair rounded a corner and he spotted three figures arguing in the middle of the hallway outside Gryffindor Tower.

"I'll handle this," he muttered to Vector and with a nod and another strange smile, she walked off, leaving him to deal with Potter, Weasley, and Miss Granger.

The redhead appeared to be making a point with Potter agreeing with him while Miss Granger shook her head stubbornly. As he neared them, he overheard a bit of what they were discussing,

"Seriously 'Mione, first my mum, now you? Lockhart's a total crock!"

"He is not! He's brilliant!"

"I hate to agree with Ron, but he really isn't that talented Hermione. Were you even listening to him in class today? He had no idea what-"

"That's because you didn't word the question right Harry! He was just confused."

Antonin changed his mind. Maybe he really would murder that man. Tonight, preferably. But first, he had to deal with the trio that seemed to have this penchant for getting into trouble.

"Perhaps," he started, his low, deep voice instantly gaining the three's attention, "You can have this conversation inside your common room instead of the hallway?"

"Oh! Of course, sorry sir, we were just going," Miss Granger started, turning to give the password to the portrait but not before Weasley decided to open his mouth again.

"Oi! Professor, what do you think of Lockhart?" The brunette spun around so quickly that Antonin worried she may get whiplash from it.

"Ronald! That is incredibly rude-"

"But he works with him, so he'll definitely have an opinion-"

"Professor Lockhart is Professor Dolohov's colleague, and I'm sure they mutually respect each other's abilities," as she started on her tangent, Antonin could hardly resist scoffing at her mention of ' _respect_ '. She paused and looked up at him, confusion seared into her eyes.

"S-Sir?" She asked tentatively. Antonin should have just sent the three to bed and not engaged in their childishness. But… something about the way she had defended Lockhart and praised him… It only served to raise his ire. And so he ended up speaking the truth,

"Lockhart is indeed impressive in his ability to produce nonsense and enable complete fools to believe in the drabble."

It certainly made him feel better to just get it out in the open, but Miss Granger's tiny face dropping did not. Her eyes that had always been so expressive closed off and her mouth tightened into a straight line while her idiot friends did some obnoxious dance of "I told you so's." He instantly regretted his honesty, but he wouldn't apologize for it.

She needed to know the truth and come to believe it on her own terms.

And she would. Lockhart was only as good an actor as his audience believed him to be. Eventually the students would put two and two together. So, he sent the Gryffindor's to bed without docking points and left to return to his own chambers.

He was only doing Hermione Granger a favor, he rationalized. Men like sparkling, shiny Lockhart were as big of deceivers as the dark, charismatic men who grew to become Dark Lords. She was better off learning the disappointment of it than remaining ignorant to the fact.

 _Or so he told himself._

* * *

 _Mudblood…_

What Draco Malfoy had called her had been so serious, so insulting, that Ron had instantly tried to hex him instead of just jeering back. Poor thing had forgotten that his wand was broken though and the curse rebounded and hit him instead. Now the three of them, Hermione, Ron, and Harry, were sitting inside of Hagrid's hut, watching Ron belch up slugs over and over again.

It was quite disgusting, but Hermione refrained from commenting this once because he was only in this situation because he had been trying to defend her honor. Or something like that. Hermione didn't completely understand why the word had such a negative connotation.

Well… She knew it didn't sound friendly. And the way Malfoy had spat it out at her sort of told her it was aimed as a slur. Plus, the word itself was pretty self-explanatory. Mudblood – dirty blood.

He was talking about the fact she was Muggleborn and that her parents were Muggles. It wasn't the same as him who came from wizarding parents; a pureblood. But Hermione didn't understand how that made her any less a witch than he as a wizard. She got better grades than him, so surely that had to count for something?

It just confused her.

Why be prejudiced about something she couldn't even control? If he had just called her a know-it-all, then that would have been that. If he had called her any other kind of derogatory term, she could even understand that. But Mudblood…? She couldn't very well do anything about that, now could she?

It just goes to show that some didn't believe she belonged here; that she was nothing better than a Muggle with a wand. But she did belong… didn't she? Ron and Harry certainly thought so and even Hagrid had told her to ignore them, but it was hard when they were raised to think like this… It meant that adults thought like this too.

Draco's father certainly did. Hermione didn't miss the way he mentioned her parents like they were something beneath him; like _she_ was beneath him. At first, Hermione had just thought that it was the aristocratic philosophy, but now she knew better. It was because of her blood and only her blood. They just didn't think she belonged…

Hermione sighed as she watched Hagrid empty Ron's slug bucket outside before quickly handing it back to him before he got giant slugs on the hut's floor. That was when Harry finally spoke up and asked,

"How long is this going to last?" Hagrid scratched his beard before admitting,

"Not entirely sure 'bout the specifics, but I did send a quick message to a professor. He should be 'ere soon and sort Ron out." Hermione wanted to cry at hearing that. The whole reason they had come to Hagrid was so that Ron didn't get in any trouble for trying to hex Malfoy. The only professor's he could have asked that could help would most definitely take House points and possibly even give him detention. And he had only been defending her…

Hagrid set to making tea when the three sharp knocks sounded on the door of the hut. Lumbering away from the stove, the giant man opened the door with a bright smile and boomed out,

"Thanks for coming on short notice Professor. But the boy can't stop." Hermione looked up as Hagrid went back to the whistling kettle and met the dark brown eyes of Professor Dolohov. He seemed almost out of place in the scenery of the home, but he didn't appear bothered by it as he closed the door and walked over to where the trio sat.

She immediately noticed that the only free spots were Hagrid's chair and the spot on the couch next to Hermione. She tensed slightly as the man lowered himself next to her. It wasn't that she was frightened of the professor, but his words from the first week of term still echoed in her mind. _Only fools believed Lockhart's drabble._ He hadn't exactly called her such… But he might as well have.

She just wanted the man's respect…

Her eyes wandered over to him, and she saw him staring at Ron with a blank expression before she watched his eyes glance over at her and heard his deep voice address her,

"What exactly is the problem with Mr. Weasley?" A brief silence fell over the room before the sound of Ron retching and the horrid, squishy sound of the slug flopping into the bucket rang out.

Hermione winced before answering, "That."

She heard the older man sigh before he begrudgingly asked, "How did it happen?"

"His wand was broken before term started, sir. It backfired when he tried to… hex someone." Harry ended up answering instead because Hermione couldn't bring herself to admit that Ron had tried to attack a fellow student. She didn't know how Professor Dolohov would react to that.

"Let me see it." Ron quickly dug his wand out of his pocket and shoved it into his professor's waiting hand. He inspected it silently, turning it between his fingers before holding it out towards Hermione.

"Hold this for me, Miss Granger." She did as he instructed and held the wand steadily. She watched her professor pull his own wand out and Hermione became entranced by it. It looked to be about thirteen inches and made of willow. It was a dark color but had lighter intricate symbols and lines across it, especially on the handle. _It fit him_ , she decided.

He flicked his wand carefully and muttered some spell under his breath before the trio watched the tape around Ron's wand turn into wood and merge itself with the two separate pieces. Hermione's eyes widened and she saw the boys' jaws drop before Ron threw up another slug.

"That's… brilliant, professor…" Hermione managed to say, before handing him the wand back. He gave her a strange look before twirling the wand around his fingers again and then handing it back to Ron.

"It isn't fixed, I've only transfigured the tape into the matching wood, but it should hold you for the rest of term. I do recommend getting a new wand soon though." Ron nodded enthusiastically while Harry still stared at the man in appreciation.

"Now," he started, a concerning glint in his eyes, "Open your mouth."

Ron's jaw seemed to lock in place as he shook his head furiously, gesturing to the bucket and the slugs already inside of it. But the professor only watched him with disinterest, his wand raising to point straight at Ron's face. Hermione held her breath, wondering what would happen.

Ron finally relented and opened his mouth as wide as possible. Another unheard muttering and a flash of blue light filled the room. Everyone stared at Ron as he appeared to dry heave some more before settling down and meeting everyone's eye with a surprised expression.

"It… feels like it's still there. But there just aren't anymore slugs coming up," he finally looked up at his professor in complete bewilderment. Hermione could only stare at the man as well. This type of magic was… amazing. She caught the professor's eye and he must have noticed the question in her gaze because he explained,

"A stasis charm. It will hold the spell until it fades away on its own." The trio nodded slowly in sync while Hagrid chose that moment to trump over and hand them all cups of steaming tea and set a plate of what looked to be scones on the table. Hermione went to reach for one but she saw Professor Dolohov purposely lift his free arm and put it along the top of the couch, catching her eye in the process.

He gave a slight shake of his head before inclining it towards Ron who had just bitten into the bread. The redhead made a face of disgust before discreetly slipping the scone to Fang who was lying on the floor by his feet. Hermione looked back up to the older wizard who held a trace of a smile on his face as he sipped his tea.

 _He really is kind…_

Hagrid sat back down and started telling them a few stories about the different mythical creatures he'd encountered or, well, _wanted_ to encounter. As he was describing a particular encounter he had with a mermaid and a unicorn, Hermione noticed Professor Dolohov shake his head in disbelief.

"Eh now! Don't give 'e that look, Antonin. I remember when you was just a lad 'ere as well. You were just a wee second year like these three and became dead set on seeing yourself a unicorn." Hermione had to cover her mouth to stifle her giggles. She couldn't picture a young Professor Dolohov but she imagined him to be just as stoic as he is now and that alone was funny. A serious little boy on the search for a majestic unicorn.

"And I remember you cried when I told you that unicorns only liked pure females." Harry and Ron finally burst out laughing at that statement but Hermione turned to look up at her professor who actually seemed to be smiling in that moment. It was hard to tell since his jaw was covered in thick stubble, but his lips did appear to be quirked.

"After that I convinced a girl in my year to come down to the edge of the forest with me after hours so that I could properly see one." Hagrid guffawed loudly at their professor's statement while Hermione continued to smile at him before asking,

"Did you, professor?"

His eyes flicked down to her and the slight smile on his face grew a little larger, "Of course."

"Slytherins," Hagrid said, still suffering from a few hiccups of laughter, "Never met a more resourceful or determined lot."

Then, it was time to go. It was a weekday so curfew was earlier than it normally was. Professor Dolohov had offered to escort the trio back up to the castle in case they didn't make it to the portrait in time. Secretly, Hermione bet it was just because of their penchant for wandering when they shouldn't be. And while Ron and Harry said their goodbyes to Hagrid, Hermione walked outside with the professor.

"Sir?" she asked as he started down the path back up to the castle.

"They'll catch up, Miss Granger," he explained without turning around. Hermione looked back to the hut before turning and speeding up a bit to catch up with her professor. When they finally reached the entrance and stepped into the immediate warmth of the castle, she heard a curious low voice ask her,

"Who did Weasley attempt to hex?" Her eyes immediately fell to her shoes as she shuffled slightly, not wanting to explain what had happened earlier on the Quidditch pitch. But she remembered her conversation with Professor Dolohov last year… _Refrain from lying at least to me_ …

"Malfoy, sir…" She said quietly, secretly hoping he hadn't heard. But, of course, he had.

"Why is that?" Hermione's eyes lifted slightly and she saw that the professor wasn't even looking at her like many of the other teachers' would when interrogating a student. His gaze was out the window but she knew he was still listening. And for some reason, it made it easier to tell him.

"He insulted me, sir. He called me a…" But her voice paused, almost as though she herself were afraid to say the word. But fear of a word only increases fear of the thing itself, she knew that. So then why couldn't she just say it? Maybe it was just because she didn't want to get Ron in any trouble.

But as it turns out, she didn't have to say it. Professor Dolohov let out a deep sigh before turning to look at her fully, "I can only guess what Mr. Malfoy said to you, Miss Granger. But I can assure you that it does not have any standing on your status as a witch."

She blinked in surprise before he looked her deep in the eye and softly uttered, "You belong here."

Hermione could only nod, trying to stave off the tears she felt prickling at her eyes. How did he know exactly what she wanted to hear? Why did he have to be so kind? Why did he also have to be so cruel? One moment implying she was foolish and the next telling her exactly what she needed to hear…

But she still respected him. He was an amazing wizard after all.

 _And he was also an amazing man._

* * *

 _The Chamber of Secrets…_

Antonin mused over the meaning of it. The Dark Lord had mentioned it before; he had been the one to open it all those years ago when he was a student and killed the girl that currently haunted the first floor girl's bathroom. Moaning Myrtle, was it? But the Dark Lord was gone… How could the Chamber be opened without his presence?

 _Unless… No_. Antonin shook his head angrily. That maniac was gone and he wouldn't be coming back any time soon. He can't… He just can't…

But now Hogwarts had bigger problems. Something was petrifying Muggleborn students again. He was on his way to investigate the third attack so far. All professors were asked to try to contribute ideas of how to solve the problem of how the incidents were occurring as well as cure the students themselves.

Unfortunately, it involved him working closely with Snape, but he would do so if it meant the end of this nonsense. The students were beginning to become insufferable with all their bloody questions and concerns.

As he walked to the infirmary, he continued to ponder who or what could've opened the chamber. At first, he had suspected Snape, but upon remembering that he was only a half-blood, switched his suspicions to Lucius' son. The aristocrat knew about the chamber just as much as he had.

But after witnessing the adorable stunt of Miss Granger stealing from Snape's lab to make Polyjuice potion and the trio's attempt to gain information, he realized it couldn't be the Malfoy boy. He wasn't a Parseltongue, to the best of his knowledge. And even though Potter had been seen speaking in the snake language, Antonin found it just a bit _too_ convenient.

He wasn't on the boy's side, but he did find it odd to say the least.

But that didn't leave Antonin with much options then. Most of the Slytherin's were too daft, weak, or self-centered to concern themselves with it. And while they did have their prejudices against Muggleborn students, he doubted any of them would purposely let loose someone or something that could possibly kill their fellow students.

Well, except Malfoy. But he had already been ruled out.

Racking his brain, Antonin entered the infirmary and saw Pomfrey fretting over what appeared to be the two newest victims of petrification. The incident had occurred earlier in the evening so Dumbledore and McGonagall must have already been through. It was a late hour, he realized. But then again, he had been grading and lost track of time. Not that he slept much anyways.

When the Mediwitch scurried back into her office, Antonin walked along the foot of the hospital beds the four students were in. Creevy, Finch-Fletchley, Clearwater, Granger…

 _Granger?!_

Antonin heard what sounded like a strangled noise come from the back of his own throat as he stopped at the edge of the final hospital bed. He turned on his heel and gripped the bars of the frame so tightly his knuckles were stark white. A look of pure horror spread across his face.

It was her, he knew that hair like the back of his own hand. _Why did he even know that? Bloody hell, Dolohov, now wasn't the time to get philosophical_. She was frozen, just damned stone at the moment. He released the bed frame and went to the side, facing her motionless body.

Why… Why had this happened to her? Why couldn't it had been anybody but _her?_

She was too little, too innocent. He had told her only months ago that she belonged in this world, and now she was attacked just for having Muggle parents. What if she had died? Merlin… He couldn't even think about that. It just made him sick to his stomach.

She didn't deserve this, gods… _She didn't deserve this_! Antonin dropped to his knees at her bedside, his hand not even hesitating before running through her wild curls. "Too soft," he muttered. She was too soft. Why had this happened? Why her?

But beneath the surface of sadness and confusion, there was anger. He was furious, murderous really. He wanted to find who or what had done this to her and crush it, destroy it. _How dare they_ … _How dare they_ do this to this little witch… to _his_ little witch…

He had no right to claim her, some part of him understood that. But he cared for her, had been trying to help her in the best ways that he could. And she was one of the spare few who weren't intimidated by him. She respected him. She _trusted_ him. And he cared, Merlin he cared. It was new, different, and he didn't know what to do about it, but it didn't stop him from caring. She was important, loathe as he was to admit it. He couldn't remember when it happened, but Hermione Granger had become important to him, Antonin Dolohov.

Why else would he have this strong of a reaction to something like this?

He continued to run his hand through her hair, watching her with sorrowful eyes. Before he knew it, he was speaking in a foreign, soft tone; back in his native tongue of Russian, " _I swear I'll get you out of this. I'll help you wake up. I won't leave you like this. It'll be okay, I promise it will be_." His free hand took one of her frozen ones, when he felt something stuck inside of it.

It was a piece of parchment, detailing a mythical creature; a Basilisk… Antonin's eyes widened. _That was it_! The creature hidden in the chamber had to be a Basilisk. It made sense, at the very least. And explained the petrification of these students as well as the death of Myrtle.

 _Of course the Dark Lord's secret beast would be a bloody snake._

Antonin leaned forward, pressing his lips to her cold forehead. Brilliant _, brilliant_ girl. Putting the page back into her hand, he touched her curls one last time before heading out to the greenhouse. Mandrakes roots were the main ingredient to curing Basilisk petrification. After that, he'd head down to the dungeons. It might take a few days, but he would make the cure.

And she would be alright…

 _She would have to be._

* * *

 _She was awake._

Hermione left the Great Hall with a huge smile on her face. She had been unpetrified and immediately went to go find Harry and Ron. They were so glad to see that she had been alright as well that they had done some sort of group hug in the middle of the tables.

Then they had sat for dinner and everyone was talking a million miles per hour. She found herself a little overwhelmed at one point and looked up to the staff table as a distraction.

After she had woken up, Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster had told her how most of the professors had worked tirelessly to cure all the students effected by the Basilisk. But her Head of House had looked slightly uncomfortable for a moment before explaining to her that the only reason they had known it had been a Basilisk was because of Professor Dolohov.

She admitted to her student that they had immediately suspected the man of being the one who had opened the Chamber. But Professor Dumbledore immediately settled her worried look with his addition that they had quickly ceased that train of thought because of his determination to find a cure.

"But… why even suspect Professor Dolohov in the first place?" She had asked. Professor McGonagall had pursed her lips for a moment before answering,

"How much do you know about him, Miss Granger?"

"Just rumors," and it was the truth. She only knew rumors about him and her own experiences with him. And they were entirely different views.

Her Professor exhaled before explaining to her that Professor Dolohov had been like most Slytherins when he had been a student and held a great deal of disdain and hatred towards Muggles and Muggleborns. And as such, they thought perhaps he had been responsible for the attacks after he had suddenly come forward with knowledge of the beast that had harmed the students in the first place.

"But Minerva, you forget that he is no longer a boy and holds no regard for those ideals any longer," Professor Dumbledore had contributed. "And his efforts to cure the students immediately removed him from suspicion."

As it turned out, Ron's younger sister, Ginny, had been seduced by some magical book and had been the one to open the Chamber. There wouldn't be any action taken against her because she hadn't consciously known what she was doing, but the book had been destroyed; by Harry, of course.

And now, staring up at the group of professors, she couldn't find the one that she actually wanted to see. Professor Dolohov wasn't in his usual spot next to Professor McGonagall. He wasn't there at all. Frowning, Hermione told herself that she had to go see him before curfew. She had to thank him. If he hadn't realized what creature had petrified her and the others, she still would've been nothing more than stone.

On her way to his classroom, Hermione thought hard about what she would say to her professor. Learning that he had despised Muggleborns when he was in school was a tough truth to swallow for Hermione. Especially after he had been so kind to her after the whole Ron/slug debacle.

But he had worked tirelessly to find a way to help his students and so that also had to account for something. She just wanted to hear it from him. She was tired of hearing rumors that he was evil and that he couldn't be trusted. Not after everything she had experienced with him.

So, she stood outside his classroom door and summoned that Gryffindor courage everyone in her house went on about and knocked. Shortly after she did, the door flicked open and she heard the familiar tones of her professor say, "Enter."

She walked in and spotted the man at his usual spot behind his desk. He looked to be grading papers, his usually slicked back hair had a few strands falling into his face. Just the sight of him brought a small smile to Hermione's face. He always looked so cool and composed but it was moments like this where he looked much more natural.

His dark eyes flicked up to meet her waiting gaze and a brief look of surprise crossed his face before he sat up straighter and addressed her, "What can I help you with Miss Granger?"

She shook her head slightly before answering, "I don't need any help, sir. I just wanted to thank you for saving me."

His brows furrowed, "I didn't save you Miss Granger."

"Oh, well, I know technically you didn't, but who knows how long I would've been petrified if you hadn't realized that I had been attacked by a Basilisk."

"You realized it had been a Basilisk." At her confusion, he continued, "The paper that was in your hand. I only found it and confirmed _your_ theory."

"Still… Thank you, Professor." He nodded slightly before returning to his papers.

"If that's all."

Hermione paused for a second. Did she really want to know? _Yes… She really did._ "Actually… I had a question, sir." She saw him stifle slightly before he stood from his desk. He stepped to the front of it and leaned against it, crossing his arms as he did so.

"And?"

She took a deep breath before blurting out, "Do you hate Muggleborns?" Whatever Professor Dolohov had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that. His hand went to his mouth and he seemed to hunch over for a moment. His body racked slightly and at first Hermione thought he was hurt. It was only after hearing a few snorts and sniffles of amusement that she realized he was laughing!

"Wha-?" She started, before her professor held up a hand and stopped her. She heard a rumble that might have been him chuckling before he met her gaze once again, mirth shining through his dark eyes.

"No, Miss Granger, I would have thought that was obvious." Hermione felt herself flush in embarrassment. "It's why I have a zero policy for insulting behavior in my classroom. Because I know how Slytherins can be."

"But… You were once a Slytherin, right?"

He nodded, "I was. And I'll admit that I had no fond feelings towards Muggles in my youth, but Muggleborns, despite their heritage, were still magical beings. And they belonged in the magical world."

 _It made sense_ , she thought. But… Did he still hate Muggles now? Almost as though sensing her question, Professor Dolohov shook his head before saying, "No, Miss Granger. I do not still harbor negative feelings towards Muggles. I do not trust them, but I can say the same for many witches and wizards as well."

"I'm sorry, sir… I didn't mean to, well, interrogate you like this." He waved his hand in an air of nonchalance,

"It's fine. You didn't mean it to be malicious, merely… curious?" He asked, and she nodded her head fervently. "Then that's settled. Now, run along, I'd hate to take points if you were caught after hours."

She smiled brightly, "Of course, sir. Thank you again." And as she walked past the various desks to leave his classroom, she heard his voice again before she reached the door, causing her to turn half around.

"Your welcome, Miss Granger. And I am… pleased to see that you are alright."

Did her heart just skip a beat?

 _I think it did…_


	3. Year Three

**Year Three**

* * *

He hated staff meetings.

Actually, no, he didn't just hate them, he _loathed_ them. Not only was he forced to attend them, but he had to actively _listen_ to whatever was being said with at least feigned interest. Or, well, as interested as anyone expected him to look. Which unfortunately meant keeping his eyes open.

He might have a decent sleep schedule if he were just allowed to nap during these ridiculous meet-ups.

But, these meetings also meant he had to be… polite. No eye-rolling, no scoffing, no sneering, no glaring. Dumbledore expected him to just sit there for hours on end and do absolutely nothing. _Suppose that is the price you pay for freedom_ , he grumbled to himself.

So, there he sat, in the far corner of the room, observing but not speaking. It reminded him of his younger days when he was a student. He could usually be found watching the going ons of others, but never engaging. He hadn't truly changed that much from his childhood. Perhaps more bitter, and cruel, but still quiet, still brooding.

They were discussing the changes to the curriculum, especially with the two new additions to the staff. Hagrid would be taking over the role of Care of Magical Creatures which Antonin personally thought he was born to do. The giant man always had a way with the creatures of the forest. He was a good fit for the role.

And then there was Lupin. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Antonin remembered him. He had been four years ahead of him in school, but Antonin remembered him. He had been a part of the first Order of the Phoenix; Dumbledore's secret society of witches and wizards against the Dark Lord. He himself had only learned about it after signing over the rest of his life to the old man.

Lupin had also been close friends with the escaped Sirius Black.

Antonin remembered that one better. He had often dealt with his younger brother, Regulus. Vladimir Dolohov had always wanted a close relationship with members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and had tried to drag his only son into it. That included being "friendly" with their children, attempting to make a name for himself, and, _oh yes_ , joining the Dark Lord.

And he had done just as he had been told. Antonin had once called many from the English pureblood society "friends", most of them being in his own House. Lucius Malfoy had enjoyed acting as a mentor to the Russian pureblood, the Carrow twins were constantly following him around, Nott and Yaxley lived with him for seven years, even little Barty Crouch Jr had inspired to _be_ him at one point or another.

It had gotten him through school, having these influential "friends". And he had made a name for himself. Top of his year, eight out of ten Outstandings on his N.E.W.T's. A Prefect for three years. A well-known tutor that even professors would recommend to their struggling students. Many had known who he was just by name even before he graduated.

Then he immediately joined the Dark Lord in the summer of '74 and his name had developed a different sort of connotation. But it made his father proud and that was all a pureblood son lived to do. Make their father's happy, marry young, and have an heir of their own. The cycle would never deter.

Unless, of course, you run away from your "responsibilities" and became a bloody professor. Then your father dies ashamed and you don't marry out of guilt and obviously sire no children. Antonin leaned his head back against the chair he was resting in. He hadn't just stopped the damned wheel; he had broken it.

But, now he had to deal with not only the usual glares from Snape but also the suspicious glances from Lupin. The man was far too concerned about the dark wizard being a professor. Then again, with the rumors stacked against him, Antonin didn't blame him. He'd be cautious as well. But he was also a Slytherin and had good reason to be.

 _The rumors…_ He'd almost forgotten about them all. Never had he paid much mind to them.

Some of them were factually accurate. Not all, but some. He'd never tell anyone about those that _were_ true, but could at least admit to himself that he wasn't as innocent as he would like to be. Not that he had much of a say in what had transpired anyways. He hadn't been calling the shots now had he?

But he would have been persecuted, ostracized, for what he _had_ done. And so, he took his mother's advice for once in his pathetic life and run. But not overseas like he should have. No, he ran straight to his old Headmaster who had once promised him sanctuary should he ever need it. Shame he hadn't told him then that it would also include giving up any hope of a future.

Antonin knew he shouldn't complain, that it could have been so much worse if Dumbledore hadn't intervened on his behalf. But it didn't stop him from being bitter over it.

 _Maybe Azkaban would have been preferable to this…_

Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the newest addition to the staff comment on what had occurred inside of his train compartment on the way to the school.

"The Dementor tried to kiss Potter?" McGonagall shrieked. "Albus, I told you sanctioning them around the school was a terrible idea!"

"Now, now Minerva, you know that was the Ministry's decision, I had little say in the matter. They are worried about Sirius Black coming after Harry and want to make sure that if he does just that, he'll be properly apprehended." _Killed, more like it. Or kissed_. Antonin silently wondered which was worse; death or a life without a soul.

"Potter could have died if Remus had not been in the compartment with him, Albus! Miss Granger may have known _of_ the Patronus Charm but she is too young to be able to properly produce one-" Granger? Antonin perked up slightly at the mention of the little witch. Was she there as well? Of course she would be, Potter had been there. His mouth opened and he heard his own voice before his mind could catch up with his pounding chest.

"Is Miss Granger alright?" Several shocked and curious looks were suddenly sent his way and Antonin cursed himself for his own stupidity.

"She was fine when I left the compartment," Lupin answered politely, still staring at the older wizard with something between surprise and nervousness. Antonin nodded his head once before averting his own gaze back to the Headmaster. _Damn_ that old man and his knowing smile. _He can't know, I don't even know._

So he found his mind occupied more than usual with Hermione Granger. So he actually cared about her wellbeing. So he had bloody _missed_ her. He wasn't hurting anybody and it wasn't completely inappropriate. He wasn't _acting_ inappropriate either. It was just his… feelings…

 _Merlin that sounds pathetic_.

Antonin wanted to visibly cringe at his thoughts. Since when was he brought down to such nonsense? She was just a child, only thirteen. And he wasn't prone to such emotions. Yes, he had loved and cared for his mother, but no others. He hadn't even cared much for his supposed friends. More like, if they had died… _oh well._

But this girl… She defied his own prided logic. There was no rational reason why he should be reacting the way he has been. There is no reason for him to even think twice about her unless she had written something over his expectations, which was usual… _Oh fuck, alright_ , it was _every_ bloody essay but that just meant she was an outstanding student.

More than outstanding really, she was probably the best student he had.

Okay, she _is_ the best student he has.

Or has ever had.

It didn't _mean_ anything.

 _Who are you kidding you idiotic old man_ , his inner thoughts chastised.

Antonin made sure no one was looking in his direction before covering his grimacing jaw with one of his hands. It may have looked as though he were yawning, but truthfully, he was just angry again. Confused, but not enough so to get rid of the rage pounding in his veins. But if anyone paid close attention, they could have easily had seen how tense he was. And the look in his eye was nothing cheerful.

If he didn't know any better, he might have thought someone had slipped him small doses of Amortentia laced with Hermione Granger's hair. But unfortunately he did know better, so he was left with the knowledge that he had some bizarre fixation with the girl and no explanation.

 _Fuck my life_.

"And now onto Quidditch!"

 _And fuck these meetings._

* * *

 _She was alone again._

And all because of a broomstick! A ruddy broomstick! They didn't know who sent it and with an escaped convict on the loose that Harry had been _warned_ about, she knew it couldn't be trusted outright. But that decision had made her Public Enemy #1 with the boys and most of her House as a result.

She wouldn't have minded as much if it had just lasted an hour or maybe even a day. But it had been six days, eight hours, and fifty-three minutes… Much longer than she had estimated.

No one would even look at her, let alone talk to her. If they did, it was just to glare at her. It was the beginning of her first year all over again. Except even Professor Dolohov had been distancing himself as well. She had stayed after class one day to ask him a question and he had practically snapped at her to read a recommended book. Yes, the book had the answer in it, but he could've just said so himself! Or at least been nicer about it…

Maybe that was just it, she missed him being nice. Godric knew it wasn't often. But she had grown used to it in a way. Especially since it was usually directed towards her. She had thought that, _maybe, possibly_ , she was… special…

Not special like when she was told she was a witch and different from Muggles like her parents, but special as in the fact that she thought he liked her. Or respected her intelligence. He had always treated her more maturely than her fellow classmates; Often asking her the more advanced questions or in moments like the staircase, allowing her to solve the problem on her own. She never felt much like a child in his presence.

And she missed him. She missed the rare times when his lips were turn up at some nonsense happening around him. She missed the way his eyes would lock onto something if he had previously been lost in thought. She missed the soft way he would speak to her. She just missed his attention in general. But especially now…

How long would she last this time? She didn't believe she was in the wrong and had to apologize but maybe that was precisely what she had to do… Sometimes keeping friends meant giving up a little bit of pride, didn't it?

Sighing lightly, Hermione continued her silent reading of the law book she had purposely sought out. The table was full of them but it didn't look like this particular one was going to hold the answers she needed. Well, that Hagrid and Buckbeak needed. That was the sole reason she was doing this anyways.

They needed her and it wasn't right that Malfoy could just get away with this. It was his own obnoxious fault anyways.

After she had exhausted the last textbook she had found, Hermione stood achingly from the seat she had inhabited for the past few days and went to return the books to their proper places. Thirteen different tomes and not a single one possessed much on court cases involving magical creatures. At least not the ones that had _won_ the case.

Done to the last book, she turned to go down the aisle she needed before colliding with a solid, warm barrier. _Sandalwood_ , her mind registered before she stepped back and saw that she had run into her history professor.

"Excuse me, professor…" she mumbled, staring at the floor. She was afraid that he would continue with his cold behavior and snap at her. Or worse, take points. But he did neither, in fact, he didn't even say anything. He just stared at her, though she didn't raise hers to meet his.

She watched one his arms extend and take the book from her arm. He seemed to examine it for a moment before his low voice reached her ears, "Why do you need to know about the _Laws of Magical Creatures, Critters, and Cretins_ , Miss Granger?"

"Research, sir."

"For?"

She swallowed thickly before responding, "Hagrid, sir."

Professor Dolohov was quiet. But she could still feel his eyes on her. Slowly, she began to lift her own up, taking in the burgundy teaching robes, stubble covered neck and jaw, straight nose, and dark hair and eyes. Those eyes were thoughtful as they met hers.

"I have a few books in my office you might find useful," he offered, although instead of being ecstatic like she wanted to be, she was just conflicted. Her eyebrows furrowing before,

"But sir, I thought you were upset with me as well."

One of his eyebrows rose as he asked, "Why would I be upset with you, Miss Granger?"

"The broomstick…"

"What broomstick?" Did he really not know? Hermione frowned slightly, still confused by his perplexed expression. Everyone knew and everyone was upset with her over it… Even Professor McGonagall, though she tried not to show it.

"The Firebolt that came for Harry- Professor, _everyone_ has been upset with me over it because they think I've done something horrendous or cost us the Cup or Quidditch in general!"

She heard something that sounded like a snort of amusement come from the usually stoic man, "Miss Granger, I could care less about a broomstick or the Cup or even Quidditch. Now, did you want to take a look at those books or not?"

"Yes sir…" She responded, slightly dazed. Following him from the library, Hermione couldn't help but think of how nice it was that he was speaking to her again. And now she would get to see his office and he would let her see his personal books and it was all just so very exciting.

When they reached his classroom, he opened the door for her and walked in behind her. She was acutely aware of his presence. Something about the man just stuck with her. It was like a comforting aura. Some place she was safe. And she did feel safe with her professor.

Walking into his office took Hermione's breath away.

Huge shelves of books covered most of the walls, filled to the brim with various sizes of tomes. His desk was backed into a corner, making way for a huge comfy looking couch and an arm chair in the direct middle. His office desk, unlike his classroom one had personal items on top of it. Picture frames that Hermione couldn't see from here, a familiar yet interesting choice of Newton's cradle, and a coffee mug that read ' _I Turn Coffee into Education'_.

Hermione tried to stifle her giggles, but couldn't stop them in time to be unnoticed. Professor Dolohov followed her line of sight until he too spotted the mug and he shook his head before walking over to a bookshelf, muttering something about his mother.

Maybe it was a gift from her. Hermione thought it was incredibly cute if it was.

Professor Dolohov came back with two normal looking books in one arm. "Take a seat wherever," he told her before planting himself in the arm chair. Hermione sat in the middle of the couch facing him, a coffee table being the only thing to separate them. He handed her the top book before leaning back in his seat to begin reading his own.

So… she was allowed to just sit in his office and read? Gazing down at the title of the book, she was surprised to see that it was indeed a magical law book, but most of it was, _obviously_ , the theory of the laws. Given that she was in the Theory professor's office, it made perfect sense. She flipped to the Table of Content and found a chapter dedicated completely to magical creatures.

The next hour was spent in companionable silence. Neither felt the urge to speak as both were completely engaged with their respective books. Hermione was learning more from this single chapter than she had in the thirteen books she had pulled from the library. Probably because these were actually theories, which was what she needed. All the other books just included cases that had lost because that's typically what happened. No one cared to find a different solution, they just accepted what they believed to be true.

But hippogriffs were not mindless creatures. They were prideful, majestic, and intelligent beings. They had feelings and Malfoy only got hurt because he had hurt Buckbeak's.

She was pulled from her thoughts by her professor's voice when he asked, "Would you like some tea, Miss Granger?" She looked up from her book and gave him a quick nod.

With a flick of his wand, there was a cup of steaming tea on the table in front of her and levitating jars of sugar and cream. She spooned a bit of cream in and added two sugars before looking up to observe her professor add four sugars. He noticed her curious gaze and looked uncharacteristically abashed for a moment before going back to his book. So Professor Dolohov enjoyed sugar… at least in his tea. Hermione didn't know why but she thoroughly delighted in learning new things about the man.

Maybe because he was so interesting. A pureblood Slytherin but completely unbiased. Opposite of the only other examples which was Professor Snape and the rest of his House. He was normally quiet and composed, well-mannered for the most part, and very private. And intelligent; quite so. It was obvious in the way he taught. He seemed so natural at it because he knew what he was talking about.

He inspired his students to learn more about what he was speaking of. That was another amazing thing about Professor Dolohov; he didn't give you all the answers and instead inspired you to seek them out for yourself. Hermione knew for a fact that more students visited the library for those reasons than just homework in general.

And he cared about it. He enjoyed talking about the subjects. Even though it was hard to notice. Beneath his hard exterior, Hermione secretly thought he was actually a big softie.

She just wished he would open up a bit more. She wanted to know what he was thinking and feeling. A man like him had to be filled to the brim with knowledge and experience and complex thoughts. To be inside his mind for just an hour would be a worthwhile experience. For her, at least.

"Have you found anything interesting yet?" She heard him ask her. Looking up from the book, she met his gaze and smiled slightly.

"Yes, sir. This chapter on magical creature laws has been more helpful than any of the books I tried finding answers for in the library." She saw his face contort slightly into the expression she came to realize was a pleased look, before he responded,

"I'm glad. I had hoped it would. Laws can be tricky, especially when you're on the defending side…" His voice seemed to trail off and Hermione wished for that hour at this exact moment. What was happening inside that intricate mind of his? Did he have experience in a courtroom setting? Had he ever had to defend someone or… be defended?

Why was this man such a mystery to her? She wanted to know all of his secrets. Every single one of them.

"The theories will help, professor. I know it probably hasn't been done before, but I'm certain that I can help Hagrid win the case."

"I'm sure if anyone can, it'll be you, Miss Granger…" She preened under his compliment and continued to smile up at him. He really was a lovely man. Especially when his eyes softened, like they were doing now. Still intense, but warmer. He looked ten years younger when he did so. Even though she had no idea how old he actually was.

Maybe she should ask?

 _And ruin a perfectly fine moment? Not right now_.

* * *

 _Sirius Black was innocent._

 _Ron's rat was actually Peter Pettigrew._

 _Professor Lupin was a werewolf._

 _And tonight was a full moon._

Hermione knew that time was a difficult concept, but for the majority of the year, she had made it work. The Time Turner Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall had entrusted her with was useful and she had made her busy schedule work.

But now that life was got even _more_ complicated, Hermione had to take Harry back in time with her to save his newfound godfather. And Buckbeak.

After Hagrid had lost his case, Hermione hadn't even gone straight to tell Ron and Harry like she thought she should. No, she followed her gut instinct and went straight to the third floor. Professor Dolohov had been in his office when she entered at his command, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

He had been understanding, comforting, though she knew he must have been uncomfortable. He had offered her tea again and sat next to her on the couch, letting her browse through a few of his more advanced theory books and answering any questions she had. They didn't talk about what happened, but she had the feeling that he knew. He was very intuitive like that.

So he distracted her.

And when it was finally time for her to go confront her friends over what had happened, he had escorted her to Gryffindor Tower. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to. He even walked slowly so that they could continue speaking as they walked, drawing out the inevitable. Hermione had wanted to hug him and thank him profusely for everything that he's done for her, but she didn't think he'd appreciate that in the moment.

She was still grateful that she could go to him when upset. He could have turned her away and sent her to her Head of House or even given her a calming drought and sent her on her way, but he didn't. He had invited her in and comforted her in his own unique way. It didn't even feel as distant as it might have looked. It was just how the older wizard was. But she felt a deeper connection with him that made up for the physical distance.

 _It was more likely a mental connection_ , she thought. _That or… emotional, perhaps?_

Whatever it was, Hermione was just glad that she shared it with her professor.

But now she and Harry were crouching, unseen by anyone else, watching the events they had already witnessed run through again. The moon was just beginning to peak out from behind the clouds as Professor Lupin began to change.

Watching it once had been hard enough but a second time almost made her soft heart break. The tattered looking wizard had reminded her fiercely of Professor Dolohov when they had first met on the train. Misunderstood, shrouded in mystery, with a strange aura about him. He was also a kind man as well. More open about it than the dark wizard but still just as kind.

Though she still preferred _her_ professor to the Defense one.

After the transformation was complete and Professor Lupin had thrown off Sirius' Animagus form and attacked Professor Snape, Hermione cupped her mouth and left loose several loud wolf calls; distracting the werewolf from her and her friends. Only then did Harry remind her that now the creature was heading straight for them.

She didn't even have time to think when a strong arm wrapped around her standing waist. She felt herself get yanked back and saw that a hand on Harry's arm was pulling him in the same motion. They were ushered behind a tree and both stood with their backs to a clothed chest. She met Harry's eye before cringing when Professor Lupin raced past them. The arm still around her waist tightened slightly and she leaned into the embrace.

Harry pulled away from the tree and looked to make sure that Lupin had gone far enough before turning to look back at Hermione and their protector. His eyes widened slightly and Hermione turned her head, looking up at the stubbled jaw of the familiar Theory professor.

"Professor…" She whispered, not wanting to attract the attention of the roaming werewolf again. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye before raising a finger to his lips, behooving her to remain silent. He pushed off from the tree, his arm going from her waist to her shoulder as he started through the forest. Harry kept a steady pace with them, choosing to remain close to their professor as well.

"Sirius… We have to get to the pond, professor," she could hear Harry whisper furiously to the older man. And surprisingly, he nodded silently, continuing their brisk pace until they reached the tree line outside of the forest's pond. Directly across the water from them was an unconscious Sirius and a struggling Harry with multiple dementors swarming around them.

"It was me…" Their Harry muttered, staring at the scene unfolding as he came to the conclusion that it hadn't been his dad that he had saw earlier, but himself. "I cast the patronus…" Professor Dolohov didn't seem to be confused, much to Hermione's surprise. Especially since he could clearly see that there were two Harry's. _What did he know_ , she wondered.

Instead he lowly responded, "Then do so, Mr. Potter." The emerald eyed boy nodded once before pulling out his wand and raising it the scene in front of them. His incantation echoed around them and a burst of silver light shot from the tip of his wand. A pure white stag appeared and charged the dementors, scattering them away from the now two unconscious figures.

"Amazing Harry…" Hermione breathed out, completely shocked by the boy's fully corporal patronus charm. Curiosity got the better of her when she whispered again, "Can you produce a patronus, sir?"

She thought perhaps he wouldn't answer when several seconds passed by, until she caught the unmistakable voice whisper back to her, "Yes." She smiled at the knowledge that the man at least had enough happiness in his life to be able to produce the charm. His eyes met hers before he averted them and turned to walk back into the woods.

"Come along, Mr. Potter. You two aren't finished tonight." Hermione frowned at his words. What did her professor know exactly? Surely he must have known about the Time Turner, but did he specifically know what they were doing tonight?

The three of them continued back into the forest when Harry suddenly stopped and gripped onto her forearm, causing her to pause as well. Professor Dolohov looked back at them in slight annoyance, "What is it Potter?" He asked gruffly.

Harry's eyes didn't blink as he continued staring at something off to the side of their professor. Both he and Hermione turned to follow his gaze and saw the hunched over figure of Professor Lupin's werewolf form begin righting itself, staring straight at them as it did. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as the creature took a step towards them.

But she noticed her professor's hand go for his pocket as his eyes narrowed in the werewolf's direction. And then she suddenly felt the suffocating force of something swirling around them. It was thick and musky and it sent shivers down her spine. It came out of nowhere and Hermione might have run away if she wasn't frozen in fear by the advancing beast.

The presence continued to smother them, firmly rooting them in place when the werewolf took another step closer but paused, sniffing the air around it. His amber eyes locked on their professor's and it's lipped curled back ever so slightly, aggressively hunching over again as the aura around them pulsated. It was dark, and terrifying and Hermione's heart threatened give under the pressure of it.

When suddenly the creature whined uncertainly, it's ears going flat against its skull, and turned, lopping away with its bent tail between its legs. The air around them cleared just as quickly as the aura had appeared, causing both her and Harry to suck in a deep breath of heavenly oxygen. She noticed her professor's tense figure as they did so and quieted down, her eyes trailing over his taunt figure. Had he been effected by it as well?

"What now?" She heard Harry ask, and she watched her professor relax just enough for him to turn and remain composed. He brought the fingers of his right hand to his lips and released a long, single note whistle. A dark figure blurred through the air and when it descended to them, Hermione was so pleased to see that it was only Buckbeak.

"How did you know how to call him, professor?" She asked as he patted the majestic birdlike creature's thick neck. He glanced over at her before returning his attention back to the nuzzling hippogriff.

"Hagrid." _Oh course_ , she thought. How silly of her. Professor Dolohov and Hagrid were friends after all. It would make sense that he told the other professor some secrets about the many creatures he interacted with.

"I believe you're running out of time, Miss Granger. Weren't you two going to rescue Sirius Black?" Her eyes shot wide open as she gaped at her professor. So he did know… But how?

"Yes sir!" Harry answered quickly, bowing to Buckbeak again before climbing on top of the bird's back. Hermione bowed to him as well, and as she went to pull herself up onto his feathered back, large hands grasped her waist and helped push her up onto the creature's back.

"Professor…" Harry asked quietly, looking at him uncertainly, "Why are you helping us save Sirius?"

Hermione turned to look at him as well. Sitting on the back of a hippogriff, they were a few inches taller than him, and Hermione could see the moonlight reflecting back in his bottomless eyes. "Because he is innocent, Mr. Potter."

Professor Dolohov stood back and took another look at the two of them, "Seventh floor, Flitwick's office." Harry nodded and urged Buckbeak to go. Hermione never broke eye contact with the man until they were too far gone to see him. Why did he look so sure of his answer…?

 _What is he hiding…?_

* * *

 _A Time Turner…_

 _Who the hell gives a thirteen-year-old girl a bloody Time Turner?!_ Antonin was still fuming over it days after the fact. He had figured it out a week prior to Sirius Black's subsequent "escape". He had seen her rush into a classroom and barely caught up with her when she had suddenly disappeared. It hadn't been hard to put two and two together.

The amount of stress of a normal school schedule were hectic enough, but Miss Granger was currently taking every class offered to third years. Not to mention when she had been doing extra work to help Hagrid and dealing with the pressure of most of her peers ignoring her… How had the girl not cracked under pressure yet?

If only he had known about this sooner…

 _What could you do about it?_ His inner most thoughts taunted. _What good would_ you _do?_

He didn't have an answer to that. But it didn't stop him from thinking that he could have helped her in some way. Whether it was verbally or emotionally, he could have done _something._

And the whole werewolf debacle… He wanted to shake the Headmaster until whatever had possessed the old man vacated his wizened body. A werewolf? A _bloody_ werewolf?! This was worse than the two Death Eaters he had hired… Much worse.

And Hermione had almost been attacked by it! Twice! Lupin was _beyond_ lucky that he returned to the castle with his flea ridden hide intact. If Antonin hadn't been there, the two children might have been dead or, _worse,_ infected.

He had purposely not attacked the beast, only releasing his magical aura to scare it away. Antonin had tried to direct it fully at the creature, but after the wolf had disappeared and he had returned to normal, he heard the two students behind him gasping for breath. It had only served to remind him that he was still very much a dangerous man.

Even his magical energy harmed others.

Shaking his head clear, Antonin returned to his glass of Firewhiskey, taking a long drink of it. And Sirius Black was free. That made everything worth it, in the dark wizard's opinion. He had known the young man was innocent at the time. He had known that Pettigrew had been the traitor.

 _He had_ _ **told**_ _Dumbledore…_

But the old man hadn't done anything. And Antonin wasn't a Gryffindor. He didn't possess the honor or bravery to come forward with the knowledge he possessed. Because his Slytherin sensibilities had told him that he would be forfeiting his own life and livelihood for a practical stranger. And he very much wanted to be alive and free.

Did that make him a coward? He couldn't tell anymore. Self-preservation was what he had told himself for years. But sometimes the two blurred together until Antonin was left just feeling empty.

He could have saved Black the trouble of Azkaban. He could have outed the literal rat and possibly had saved Lily and James Potter. Harry Potter might have still had his parents.

But… then the Dark Lord would still be alive and Antonin… He would still be a monster…

"Professor?" His eyes shot opened and focused on the doorway to his office. Hermione Granger was standing sheepishly in the opening, her hand raised like she had been knocking. He must have been too lost in his thoughts…

"Yes, Miss Granger?" He placed his glass on the desk and sat up a little straighter as she entered the room and approached him. He tried to force himself to look only at her face but he felt his composure slipping when he stole brief glances down to her waist. He had felt her… That same night, he had grabbed her there and even held her against him… She was soft, just like he had imagined her to be.

 _Stop it, you lecherous old man!_

"I had a question, sir… And it's alright if you don't want to answer it, but I was just curious, is all-" She stopped when he gave her a pointed look. Taking a deep breath, she looked to be preparing herself and Antonin could only wonder what it was that she wanted to know. _Does she know…?_ He tensed slightly and prepared for the worst.

"How did you know about my Time Turner?" _Wha-_ Antonin could only stare at her as she stood nervously under his gaze. _Out of all the bloody questions-!_

"I watched you use it one day," he muttered, picking his glass back up to take another drink. It was a good thing he had it handy. This girl had driven him to drink multiple times already. Firewhiskey was a must now.

"Professor Dumbledore didn't tell you?" She asked, surprised.

He shook his head and muttered again, "He doesn't tell me much." Her head tilted in confusion and Antonin took another drink. _Drink when she exasperates you, drink when she arouses you. You'll be pissed before dinner, Dolohov._

"Was that it, Granger?" He growled out in annoyance. More with himself than the girl. It wasn't her fault his traitorous body responded to every little thing she did. Unless he was right about the whole love potion theory.

She blinked in shock before shaking her head, "No, sir… I just wanted to thank you again-"

Antonin scoffed, effectively cutting her off, before he stood from his chair. "Yes, yes. Thank you for saving me life, yet again. Thank you for scaring away a werewolf before it could maul me to death. And thank you for ignoring the fact that I could have died or suffered a mental breakdown from the overuse of a bloody Time Turner."

Where this side of Antonin came from, he never did find out. He just knew that his blood pressure had been rising and he didn't want her thanks. He didn't want her to feel indebted to him. He didn't want her to even be _near_ him half the time. While the other half he wanted her to be around him _all_ the time.

And the girl… Hermione… she just stood there and took everything he had just thrown at her. Without even batting a curled eyelash. Her damnable whiskey eyes just held him as he practically threw a tantrum. It wasn't until he was done, his heavy breathing the only thing filling the room, that she finally spoke.

"Were you worried about me, professor?" _Was he-? What did she bloody think he was doing all this for?!_

"Yes, I was worried!" He shouted, watching a spark appear in the girl's eye. "You're still a child, Miss Granger. No matter how intelligent and responsible you are, it was idiotic to give you a Time Turner at this age! And of course the Ministry just approved it like the bootlicking, fascist, sub servants they are-!"

His was interrupted mid-rant but the feeling of two arms wrapping around his waist. His eyes dropped down and took in the impossible curly head of hair that was underneath his chin. She was so warm… So soft… And still so small.

He felt his body immediately begin to relax, before his arms raised to wrap around the girl's slim shoulders, returning her surprise embrace.

"Thank you, professor…"

She fit, he noticed. She fit rather nicely in his arms. Like she belonged there.

 _Like she was home._


	4. Year Four

**Year Four**

* * *

The World Cup was unlike anything Hermione had ever been a part of before.

Dazzling effects, huge crowds, and a complete aura of excitement and friendly competition. She was so glad to have been included with Harry and the Weasley's. And it was quite the experience. She spent most of it by Ginny and Harry's sides, since they didn't insanely babble about the game like Ron or the twins had the habit of doing. Rather loudly too.

During a particularly slow point of the game, where the referee was trying to figure out a difficult call, Ginny and her began to chat a bit. And people watch. Hermione had always loved the game as a child. Maybe you'd accidently recognize someone.

And Ginny had recognized someone.

"Oh! Look Hermione! Over there, right under the purple dais… Isn't that Professor Dolohov?" Hermione had to borrow Harry's Sneakscope, but sure enough, there was the familiar figure of her professor. She hadn't thought he liked the sport that much. He had never been seen at a game at least.

"Who's he with, Hermione? Can you tell?" Putting the binocular type instrument back up to the face, she checked out the people surrounding the darkly dressed man and immediately recognized her Arithmancy professor from last term.

Professor Vector was a middle aged woman with long, straight brown hair and blue eyes. She was actually quite pretty in Hermione's opinion. She was fairly strict but she had a killer sense of humor when she was in a good mood. Were they here with the other professors as well?

On closer inspection, Hermione saw that it was just the two of them. They were side by side, both focused on the going ons in front of them, but she could see Vector occasionally lean closer to say something directly to the man. He'd either nod or give a short reply, but she couldn't see him do anything more than that. He didn't even look at his colleague as he answered her.

So, he didn't seem to be comfortable freely conversing with her… Hermione wanted to cheer aloud but knew that she'd have to explain the random outburst to those around her. Maybe she'd just wait to channel her feelings if Ireland did something impressive again. No one would be any wiser.

She knew that her growing feelings for Professor Dolohov would be considered out of line if anyone found out, but they were just her thoughts and her feelings. She wasn't hurting anyone. And it wasn't like she was going to act on anything. He was just a very impressive man that she wanted to know more about. And she cared about him, obviously.

And he clearly cared about her. Or at least favored her enough. But she liked to think that he actually liked her. It was just a schoolgirl's fantasy. She was allowed those, wasn't she? Most of her dorm mates talked frequently of them. And it wasn't uncommon to daydream about your professor's...

It wasn't like she wanted him to herself. It was just a fantasy. Surely Professor Dolohov could have any number of women that he wanted. He was tall, dark, and mysterious. A clear type for those interested in it.

 _But she knew he could do better than Vector._

* * *

 _People were screaming._

They were shoving each other out of the way and Hermione was just trying to stay upright and next to Ron and Harry. It was bad enough that some crazy individuals were attacking the crowd of people. Hermione didn't need to add being trampled on top of that.

Random hooded figures had just appeared and started levitating people and playing with them. It was a horrid sight and the trio hadn't wanted to get caught up in it. They were trying to get to Mr. Weasley and the others but it was proving to be more difficult than they had hoped. Probably because everyone was in an utter panic.

Harry had ended up falling and Hermione had grabbed Ron and the two went back for their friend. He was in the middle of a clearing and after rousing him awake, they tried to get away again. But when Hermione stood up and turned to run, there was a hooded figure blocking their way. Its mask looked like part of a skull and chilled Hermione to the bone.

She could hear Ron and Harry behind her, whispering for her to turn and run. But if she did… wouldn't that give the hooded figure time to hex her? She kept her eyes focused fully on the imposing figure and fingered the wand in her pocket. She might have been inexperienced with dueling, but she knew proper Shield charms if need be. Or she could release some sparks to summon help.

Her mind was whirling as she debated her options. And then the figure took several quick steps towards her, and Hermione found she wasn't as prepared as she thought she was. She stumbled backwards, still not taking her eyes off of it when her back collided with something solid.

She wanted to scream but her throat closed up. An arm wrapped around her torso and pulled her close. _This is it,_ Hermione thought, devastated. _I'm going to be kidnapped or hurt or… killed._ Her eyes closed and she shrank back into the chest she had found herself against. Whoever it was… They smelled like…

 _Sandalwood…?_

" _Incarcerous._ " Thick ropes appeared out of thin air and wrapped themselves around the hooded figure, bringing it straight to the ground where it riled for a moment before falling completely still. Hermione let out a huge whoosh of breath _. This man had impeccable timing,_ she thought fondly.

"Hermione!" She heard Ron yell from behind them. The wizard holding her released his grip slightly, allowing her to slip away if she wanted. But she found herself feeling safer in his arms than out of them. And he was… warm…

 _Don't think about that Granger_ , she internally chastised. _He's still your professor._

Harry appeared suddenly in her line of vision and it took all her willpower not to scream. But she _was_ pleased that he had interrupted her less than respectful thoughts. Until she saw the worried look on his face.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" She nodded her head, still not trusting her voice at the moment. She didn't want it to tremble or anything. At least not in front of Professor Dolohov. Especially not since she could still feel his warmth seeping into her back.

"We should go," the low voice above her advised. Harry looked up at him and with trust shining in his emerald eyes, he nodded his head in agreement. She felt the arm retreat until it was just pressing against the back of her shoulder. Ignoring her feelings of disappointment, she focused on getting out of the area safely.

Hermione stayed close to her professor while Harry remained by her side and Ron on the other side of the older wizard. They got to the edge of the forest, far away from the clearing and any danger that being in the open produced. It wasn't until she looked up that she saw that maybe the danger wasn't over yet.

A giant cloud of black smoke had taken the form of a skull with a snake coming out of its opened mouth…

"Professor," her voice was shaky, but she couldn't stop it. The sight was too terrifying. "What is that…?

He followed her gaze and when she looked away from the monstrosity in the sky, she noticed how tense her professor's jaw was. His whole body seemed to go rigid next to her and the fingers on her shoulder curled slightly, adding only a little more pressure. It wasn't painful, but it was noticeable.

And she was worried about it. About his reaction. It couldn't be good if it affected this man so much. He was powerful and if this bothered him… Hermione knew it had to be serious.

"Come," he finally said, nudging her away from the clearing. Harry and Ron continued to follow close as they walked through the woods. Hermione was instantly reminded of the events a few weeks ago when a similar situation had occurred. Only then they were running from a werewolf professor and trying to save an innocent escaped convict. Now… they were just running for their own safety.

But she still felt just as safe. With Professor Dolohov around, she knew nothing bad would happen. He was there to protect them and always did it well. Hermione smiled softly as she remembered all of her fond memories of the man. His kindness, his protectiveness, his worriedness for her well-being. He truly was an amazing man. She looked up at him with the same smile on her face and caught his surprised expression.

It disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, but Hermione was pleased that she had been able to catch it. She loved seeing him make expressions that differed from the ones he usually had in place. Mostly disinterest or simply expressionless. _It was nice to be reminded that he was still human sometimes_ , she mused.

She hadn't taken her eyes off of him yet and he continuously glanced down at her. Maybe he thought something was wrong with her? She didn't care. She just liked to look at him. His strong jaw covered in thick stubble was especially enticing. A less than appropriate thought of rubbing her cheek against it came to mind and she finally looked away from him; her cheeks flaming.

 _Calm down Hermione…_

They finally reached the end of the forest and walked out to see Aurors and Ministry workers alike running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Truly a sight to see. She glanced back up at her professor and almost laughed at the sneer plastered on his face. He must have had the same thought that she did.

He moved them through the active area with ease. Most people seemed more than glad to give the scowling man a wide berth. Especially since he had Harry Potter glued to his side as well. Hermione couldn't hold back the chuckle forming in her gut.

"Something funny, Miss Granger?" His voice drifted straight into her ear like he had leaned down to do so. Turning her head slightly, she saw that he had and met his inquisitive gaze with confidence.

"Just how quickly everyone seems to get out of your way, sir." He raised a single brow before nodding his head and turning to look back ahead, muttering,

"Spineless fools…" Giggling again, Hermione kept up the pace and tried counting how many people continued to fly out of their professor's way until she reached twenty-seven. Ron's voice threw her off as he yelled out,

"Dad!" Mr. Weasley was standing in front of a large tent with his eldest son's and daughter surrounding him. His balding redhead shot straight up and made contact with Ron's before he stepped forward.

"Ronald Bilius! Where have you been?"

"We were almost attacked Dad!" Ron stepped into his father's embrace for a moment before they stepped back and Mr. Weasley demanded to know what happened.

"Well, 'Mione and I went back for Harry cus he had fallen and got knocked out. And then some hooded guy started going after 'Mione! But when we were getting our wands out, Professor Dolohov showed up and then brought us here."

Mr. Weasley's eyes shot up and he pulled his wand out quicker than Hermione had ever seen someone do before. And it was pointed straight at the man next to her…

"Dolohov…" The usually kind older man's eyes were narrowed as he kept his wand trained on her professor. She tried to step closer to him, but his hand on her moved in between her shoulder blades and he gently shoved her away from him.

"Dad…" She heard Ron say, confusion lacing his voice.

"Get back there with your brother's Ronald. You too, Harry, Hermione. Get behind me." Harry looked over at her from the right side of Professor Dolohov. He didn't start to move. And neither did she.

"Kids-" Mr. Weasley began, but Harry soon cut him off.

"Mr. Weasley, Professor Dolohov _saved_ Hermione. Who knows what could have happened to her if he hadn't been there?" Hermione nodded fervently at his statement. It was true, she hadn't even known what might have happened.

"Harry, that man is very dangerous. Now please, kids, come over here." Hermione's eyes widened at Ron's father. Her professor was _not_ dangerous. Maybe rough around the edges and a little misunderstood, but certainly not _dangerous._

"You're wrong, Mr. Weasley. Professor Dolohov has done nothing but protect us. He hasn't done anything wrong-" Hermione tried to defend her professor, but she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Looking right and up at the man next to her, she met his guarded gaze as he shook his head at her.

"I've done plenty wrong, Miss Granger. Mr. Weasley is right to distrust me. Now, go." He gently nudged her again and Hermione took a few steps forward, before she stopped.

"Thank you for saving me again, sir. You are…" She struggled with the right words for a moment, before she met his curious gaze and knew exactly what she wanted to say.

 _"You're a good man, sir."_

* * *

 _Why?_

 _Why was she under his skin in such a way?_

 _What had she done to him, to reduce him to… this…_

To have thoughts consumed with nothing but the scent of her crisp hair in his memory. To see nothing but her whiskey eyes when he closed his own. Why could he still feel her body imprinted against his even weeks after having saved her? Her warmth seemed permanently ingrained in his very being.

The rest of his summer had been evenly split between worrying about the meaning of seeing Death Eaters active again along with the Dark Mark's appearance and then this slip of a girl. One was clearly not the same as the other.

He needed to wrap his head around this. He needed to focus if he wanted to survive whatever his old allies were planning. And having her floating around his mind was certainly not helping. Especially now that his thoughts had begun to take a less than innocent approach.

At first, he had merely thought he was protective of the girl. It would make sense; he had always had a soft spot for tiny girls. Such as that time in seventh year when he had tutored Lily Evans and her friends. They had only been third years at the time and had been struggling in Divination. Snape had ironically been the one to recommend him to her and every Tuesday evening for five weeks the four of them would met in the library.

None of them had minded that he was a Slytherin just as he hadn't minded that they were Gryffindors.

He remembered Evans especially.

Her smile had been as bright as her eyes and with her naturally friendly demeanor, even his brooding self couldn't help but converse freely with her. She had been vastly intelligent, even at thirteen. They had talked often during those weeks and even afterwards she had made a point to say hello to him when they passed in the halls or happened to be in the library at the same time.

When she and her husband had been targeted by the Dark Lord and their _friend_ had betrayed their location, Antonin hadn't even hesitated when he went to Dumbledore. It was what had ultimately caused him to defect after all.

Little Lily Evans with the bright smile who extended friendship to all… she didn't deserve to die over a ruddy prophecy. And certainly not because one of her husband's closest friends had turned traitor without their knowledge.

Antonin knew that if the Dark Lord had succeeded in his plans, he wouldn't have been stopped. He would have destroyed anyone in his path to power. He would sacrifice anyone to do so. And, well, Antonin liked living.

But Lily Potter died that Halloween night along with her husband. Because Dumbledore had done nothing. Because _he_ had done nothing further.

Antonin carried death with him. It was a part of who he was ultimately. But that was one ghost he wished he could rid himself of. He had tried. Maybe not hard enough, but he had done _something_. And the girl he remembered was still dead.

Perhaps that was why Antonin felt so strongly about little Hermione Granger. She did remind him somewhat of Evans. Bright eyes and smile, Muggleborn, Gryffindor, just a tiny thing really. And while the redheaded girl from his school days was dead, Hermione was not. He could still protect her… Being friends with Harry Potter did make her somewhat of a target after all. As well as her blood status.

 _She won't die,_ he vowed. _She won't even get hurt again if I have anything to do about it._

Throwing himself into his feelings of protectiveness might just be what he needs to do. It'll push away those other confusing thoughts and leave him with what he's allowed to have. _Yes… That's right. Just be someone who cares for her well-being. A proper adult figure in her life. That's fine._

 _So then why did it still make him feel dirty_?

He sighed in annoyance as he rose from his chair. He had class in a few minutes; fourth year Gryffindors and Slytherins. _Perfect,_ he groaned internally. The girl he hadn't stop thinking about, the fourth champion Potter, and Malfoy. All in one room!

When the boy had been chosen, Antonin instantly knew that a dark force was at work. It was a Slytherin move, putting the boy's name in and charming the cup to produce the desired name. Dark magic, mostly. He had looked into it briefly before he had to cease. It wouldn't do to become too associated with the dark side again. Especially since the sightings of Death Eaters had risen. Dumbledore might believe him but others wouldn't be so quick to. And the old man's word only went so far.

Antonin was still furious at the Headmaster anyways. Hosting the Triwizard Tournament meant having Durmstrang. And having the Bulgarian school visiting meant Karkaroff would be with them. There was a large number of people Antonin despised in this world but Igor Karkaroff was one of the top. The bastard was nearly responsible for getting him a life sentence in Azkaban.

 _But he had fled first and Igor made a deal that kept him out of prison._

 _Coward that he is_ , Antonin thought darkly. The man had had the audacity to smile and attempt to greet the professor like they were old friends! He hadn't even liked the slimy man when they had been supposed "allies."

And then there was Moody, who looked like the Auror he remembered, but didn't necessarily act like him. Alastor Moody had a vendetta against Antonin since he had first been suspected of Death Eater activity and had made it his life's mission to put him away. Of course though, he wasn't successful, but the wizened man still held a grudge against him.

But this Moody didn't seem nearly as bothered by the dark wizard. He still snapped at him whenever possible and glared occasionally, but he didn't seem to have nearly as much hatred as Antonin knew he possessed. This couldn't possibly be Dumbledore's work… Could it?

Antonin resigned himself to just watching the man. Perhaps he'd see more suspicious behavior then. Or else the older man was just finally cracking. _That's always an option_ , he had thought with an internal snigger.

He opened his classroom doors with a flick of his wrist and sat behind his desk, going over what they would be discussing today _. The Sacred Twenty-Eight_. Antonin rolled his eyes in exasperation. He'd be taking points today, that was for sure. It happened anytime he ever had to bring up the historical significance of blood purity. And the little twits just can't resist making bloody comments.

He barely noticed when his class began to trickle in. He had looked up only once, and that was when he had seen the familiar wayward curls take the seat a few feet in front of him. She had met his gaze with a ready smile and he nodded back in acknowledgement before returning to his notes. It was something of a routine they had. And mundane and pointless as it seemed, Antonin couldn't help but continue it.

 _Really though… What was she reducing him to?_

The beginning of his lecture went well enough. Most had already done their required reading and could follow along fairly well. And there had been nothing but silence from the left side of the room which was a blessing in disguise. Hopefully most of them were just asleep since they knew enough about the families. Most actually _being_ in them.

But then he had to ask questions.

"Can anyone tell me one of the three characteristics of being part of a family in the Sacred Twenty-Eight?" Malfoy's hand raised lazily and Antonin allowed him to answer.

"A spot on the Wizengamot."

"Five points to Slytherin. Another?" Longbottom raised his hand shakily and stuttered out his answer when Antonin called on him.

"M-more influence in the w-wizard world?"

"Five points to Gryffindor. The last?" The boy physically sagged into his chair in relief as he looked down at the raised hand directly in front of him.

"Miss Granger?"

"Blood supremacy."

Antonin held her wary gaze as he spoke, "Five points to Gryffindor." She nodded dejectedly as the sounds of snickers came from the left side of his classroom. He glared at the green clothed students and most of them instantly quieted. Except Malfoy and his dolts.

"Something you'd like to share, Mr. Malfoy?" The warning was laced into his words and he could see the blonde boy visibly gulp. But that didn't seem to deter his tactless character.

"It's just good to know that some students recognize their place is all," the now smirking boy said, adding a quick, "Sir," as an afterthought.

"And what place would that be?" He growled out, wishing that the boy would just say it so Antonin could take as many House points as he wanted. But Malfoy only shrugged and continued to look arrogantly at Hermione who was steadily ignoring him.

She didn't deserve this treatment. She who was smarter than the rest of these ingrates. Who could go far in this life even with the prejudice and sexism stacked against her. She was capable of it; he knew she was. And yet this idiot boy sneers at her all because her parents aren't wizards. Because of some delusion of blood purity.

 _It was disgusting…_

He dismissed his class shortly afterwards, still left with the urge to smack Lucius' son until his face turned purple. And then perhaps backhand the older wizard as well. After all it was his fault that his son is the way that he is.

Antonin had been so far into his violent thoughts that he almost missed the sound of a throat clearing. The witch on his mind was standing directly in front of him, looking up at him almost pensively.

"What can I help you with, Miss Granger?" She gave him a small smile that hurt his chest. Why? Why did she have to affect him so?

"I'm worried about Harry, sir… He barely made it through the first task in one piece. And we're no closer to figuring out who had put his name into the cup either. I was wondering if you had any ideas?"

She was coming to him for advice? Yes, that's what a professor was meant to do, but it still shocked him that she was coming to him for this particular problem. He would have thought McGonagall to be the go to in this situation. Well… she had asked him…

"Only dark magic would have been able to alter the magic around the Goblet of Fire," he explained, instantly capturing her full attention. "Someone powerful with enough knowledge on both the Goblet and its properties. As well as the magic that would have been used to effect it."

"Do you suspect someone?"

Antonin met her eyes and could see the uneasiness and worry hidden within their expressive pools. She really was just like an open book. "Karkaroff."

Her brows furrowed slightly as they stared at one another. "The Headmaster of Durmstrang? Why?"

"He was a Death Eater," Antonin simply replied. Her eyes widened almost comically at his revelation. _I wonder if the same would happen if I told her the truth about myself?_

"Are you sure, professor?" _Of course he was._

"Quite, Miss Granger. Even he wasn't the one who put Potter's name in the cup, you should still avoid him and his students. Durmstrang is far more involved in the Dark Arts than Hogwarts." She nodded her head in understanding.

"Thank you for telling me this, sir. I'll be careful, I promise."

 _If only he believed that she could actually keep that promise…_

* * *

 _The Yule Ball was supposed to have been lovely…_

So then why was she sitting on a staircase, crying her eyes out all because her best friends were immature gits?

There was nothing wrong with her decision to go to the Ball with Viktor Krum! He was a polite and friendly young man who didn't need to mindlessly chatter like many boys she knew. And while he was slightly dark and brooding, Hermione found that she actually… _really_ … liked that.

And he had asked her! She was allowed to accept, wasn't she? It's not like Ron or Harry would properly ask her anyways. They had just _expected_ her to go with one of them. To keep herself available in case they couldn't find _better_ dates. Well, she wasn't going to be someone's second best. So she decided to go with Viktor and at the beginning, it had been wonderful.

Walking into the Great Hall, everyone seeing that she wasn't just bookworm, know-it-all Hermione Granger; That she did have appeal about her… It was what she had always dreamed of. To be the belle of the ball. And she felt like it, at least.

Dancing was one of her hobbies. She had taken lessons since she was a child so getting the chance to show off her natural gracefulness when soft music was playing excited her to no end. And Viktor was a superb dancer too. Though… she couldn't help but notice that her skin didn't exactly tingle in the way she thought it should.

 _It did when her professor had touched her…_

When Viktor had gone to get them drinks, Hermione had tried to spot Professor Dolohov before walking over to join a sulking Ron and Harry. She had found him on the dancefloor, coincidently. He was dressed in violet robes that meshed perfectly with his naturally dark looks. It also would have went well with her periwinkle dress…

 _Stop that!_

He was spinning Professor Vector, his hands placed in the typical gentleman fashion on her waist and shoulder. So they had gone to the World Cup and now the Yule Ball together? Hermione wondered if they close. She hadn't seen them interact much outside of class. Occasionally if they sat near each other in the Great Hall they might converse, but otherwise, Hermione hadn't seen them in each other's company often.

Maybe they just spent time together after hours…

Why did that thought cause her belly to curl uncomfortably? It didn't matter what her professor did with his life. It wasn't her place to know anyways. It was extremely inappropriate! But it still bothered her… She couldn't deny that. Now if she only knew _why_ it caused her confliction…

Did she like him? Well, yes, she really did like Professor Dolohov. But did she like him in a more… personal way? She thought it was possible. Everything seems to be pointing to that conclusion, much to her own inner turmoil.

 _She had a crush on her professor…_

And he was here at the ball with another professor. A woman much better suited to him. Vector was tall, statuesque really, pretty, and closer in age to her professor. How would Hermione even have a chance against an actual woman and not a girl like herself.

She would be better off just forgetting about her silly affections. They'd be unwanted anyways. She could just picture the disgust on Professor Dolohov's face if he ever found out what she thought about regarding him and her. _He'd never look at her the same way…_

Hermione had gone to her friends, hopeful that they could distract her from her confusing feelings but instead, they had just ruined her night…

Now she couldn't stop her tears from falling. _Stupid Ron, stupid Harry, stupid ball_ … She was so deep in her own sulking, self-pitying moment that she didn't even see the figure that had approached her. It wasn't until the figure dropped down on the steps next to her and spread their long legs out in front of them that Hermione realized she had company.

She went to wipe her eyes, but saw a neatly folded handkerchief being offered to her instead. She accepted it graciously and dabbed gently at her wet lashes and cheeks. As she was finishing, she heard a familiarly masculine voice rumble from beside her,

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" She slowly lowered the cotton from her face and held it in her lap, staring at the embroidered _'AD'_ that had caught her eye.

"Yes, sir…" She didn't know what possessed her to lie to him, but she came to regret it. Especially since he knew. The huff of air he released told her that he was unimpressed with her attempt. She wanted to fold in on herself. How had this night gone so wrong when it had started so nice?

"Come with me," he said suddenly, knocking Hermione right out of her wallowing thoughts. She watched him push himself off the stone steps and stand to full height before he turned and offered her one of his large hands. She didn't even hesitate, wanting to feel his warmth on her skin again. And it did feel divine. Like they belonged together…

He began to escort her through the corridors but he hadn't once released her hand. Hermione could barely contain the giddy feeling welling up inside of her. In her excitement, she hadn't even asked where they were going. But as they reached the third floor, Hermione had a good enough guess.

And when they entered his office, she knew she had been right. With a flick of his wand, he lit a few candles and began making some tea. He sat on the left side of the couch and motioned for her to join him. She did so and thanked him quietly for the tea he hadn't her.

They were silent for a few moments as they sipped the hot liquid. Hermione's mind was still trying to process that she was still in her ball dress and sitting on her professor's couch in his office. She was also acutely aware that they were alone and she still had a crush on him and he looked dashing in those purple robes.

"Why were you crying, Miss Granger?" She turned her gaze up to meet his and simply connected with him for longer than was probably normal. But he did have stunning eyes… So deep, so dark, so intense. And they were focused so fully on her…

She watched his expressionless mask lift for a moment, worry replacing it as he frowned and the lines on his face deepened. He was worried about her… for her _… He was so kind…_

"Boys, professor." She said, her ire beginning to rise again as she thought about it.

"Boys?" He asked, looking slightly bewildered. At his question, Hermione felt all her annoyance and angering bubbling to the surface and she snapped, blurting out everything she felt and thought.

"They're so _stupid_ , sir. One night! One night was all I wanted where I could just be a girl. Because I am! I am a girl! And it's not my fault that they couldn't realize that. We've been friends since we were eleven but that does not mean that I am not of the female persuasion!" Hermione was on a tangent and didn't even look at the man sitting next to her as she rants and raved.

"And so I went with Viktor Krum to the Ball? He _asked_ me. _He_ recognized I was, indeed, a girl. And I was his first choice! Ron just wanted me to be the fall back girl in case he couldn't find a _better_ date! I'm so sick of that! If he wanted to go with me, she should have just asked in the first place! Not expected me to sit patiently and wait until he exhausted all of his options. _And!_... And fraternizing with the enemy?!" But she still wasn't done. And her tone took a sharp turn towards sadness instead of the anger she had previously been channeling.

"Now the night's been ruined… I just wanted to have fun. Dance, chat, enjoy myself. I thought I looked nice for once and I had a nice date and I thought everything would be perfect. But my best friends made me cry and I won't get to experience a midnight kiss like everyone keeps talking about and _these shoes_ _hurt my feet_!"

She had finally gotten it all out. And, not surprisingly, she felt better. But then she remembered who she had just unloaded all of this onto… Lifting her head slightly, she chanced a glimpse at the man sitting next to her. He was just holding a glass of something and watching as it swirled around. When she had been silent for a few moments, his eyes lifted and met hers again.

"There are cushioning charms to help with the shoes," he offered and Hermione burst into a fit of giggles. He was so ridiculous sometimes and she thought he didn't even realize it half the time. But when she looked up into his face again, she saw the smile on his face and knew that he had done so on purpose this time. He was trying to cheer her up.

"I didn't know that," she said back, slightly winded from laughing too hard. He tilted his head as he asked,

"I thought all witches knew about those? Then again, the most experience I had been females during my school days were pureblood Slytherins. They dressed up at any and every opportunity." Hermione smiled brightly at his words. It wasn't often that he spoke of his own days at Hogwarts and she relished those words when he did. She felt more connected with him.

"Do you know any yourself, sir?"

"A few. It is interesting magic even if it's typically used for comfort with fashion choices." Hermione nearly snorted at his answer. Of course he'd think that. Maybe Ravenclaw would have been better suited for her professor.

"Would you like to know one?" Hermione jumped at the opportunity to learn a new spell. Especially one that could solve many of her own fashion choices. So for the next half an hour, Professor Dolohov sat next to her on his comfortable couch and taught her several different cushioning and cleaning charms. All safe for clothing.

"So you can use the _Scougify_ charm on cloths as well?" She asked curiously, not having known this already. He nodded and gave her a demonstration. Spilling whatever liquid was in his glass partially on his couch and his dress robes, he waved his wand, spoke the incantation and instantly both different materials were clean and dry.

"Wow…" Hermione loved learning new and helpful spells and her professor seemed more than pleased to indulge her. Her earlier thoughts of the evening being ruined had long since passed as she spent more and more time with this man. Maybe she'd even _thank_ Ron and Harry after this for pushing her towards this opportunity.

"I believe it's time for you to start heading back to your dorm, Miss Granger." Looking over at his clock, Hermione thought the same thing. It was almost midnight. She stood from the couch and her professor followed. At her questioning look, he explained, "I will escort you back."

 _Always the gentleman_ , she thought affectionately. He really was a pureblood. Much as she hated to admit it, they did have impeccable manners when they wanted to.

The two of them walked through the halls silently, just listening to the sounds of their dress shoes clinking and clacking against the castle's stone floors. Hermione was distracted by their closeness and her growing feelings for her professor and when she looked up at the man in question, he appeared to be distracted by his thoughts as well.

When they reached her portrait, the Fat Lady was gone. But as she felt herself worry about how she was going to get inside, Professor Dolohov had pointed his wand at the empty frame and muttered an incantation. The door cracked open and was waiting for someone to pull it open and walk inside.

"How do you do that, professor…" She whispered in amazement. He didn't answer her and he didn't have to. She knew he was just naturally talented.

"Thank you for the lovely evening, sir." She said louder, purposely gaining his attention. But his eyes held some strange look in them that Hermione couldn't exactly pinpoint. She continued regardless, "It might not have been what I had expected, but it was pleasant nonetheless."

Her professor was still silent and just as Hermione thought he wasn't going to say anything at all and debated on just going to her room, she felt one of his warm hands cup her cheek. Her heart threatened to burst at the influx of emotions ranging through her. _What was he-?_

"You're welcome, Miss Granger," he said in what sounded like a foreign voice. She had never heard him take on this gentle of a tone before. As quickly as he had touched her though, he was gone, drifting back into the darkness of the distant hallway.

As she climbed the stairs to her dorm in shoes that no longer hurt, she briefly considered how soft her professor's lips would feel against her skin instead of his hand.

* * *

 _The bottom of the lake…_

 _Why was she at the bottom of the_ _ **bloody**_ _lake?_

Antonin itched to strangle the man that had once saved his life and integrity. Indebted or not, it was his fault that the girl Antonin found himself obsessed with was at the bottom of the lake. She was being used as an incentive for the champion Krum to save. She was someone he cared about apparently.

 _That wouldn't do at all…_

The wizard's thoughts had longed since turned darker than usual. Ever since he saw her enter the Great Hall on the Durmstrang student's arm. He didn't know what he had expected. Possibly Weasley or Potter more likely. Maybe even Longbottom. But certainly not Viktor Krum.

And it had stung. He had felt betrayed when there wasn't any reason for it. She was free to do as she pleased. But apparently Antonin's psyche had other notions.

He remembered the rage at seeing them dancing together. All rational thought had left him in that moment; _She was his. She was his. She was his._ The chant continued until Vector had gotten his attention. The witch had suggested that they dance together,

"Just once! Y-You know, since it _is_ a ball." He went through with it because he had hoped that it would distract him enough. Septima was a conventionally pretty witch and about the same age as himself. But her pulled back brown hair wasn't golden enough. Her blue eyes that occasionally met his while they spun around the floor weren't whiskey brown. She wasn't nearly as soft. Her height was wrong.

Antonin wanted to punch himself for this nonsense.

Septima Vector was a suitable witch who appeared to have an interest in him beyond his blood status and family name. But his stupid self was too bloody obsessed with a fifteen-year-old…

 _But wasn't she his already? He had saved her life enough, surely she was indebted to him. And she would want to be his. He was an excellent lover after all…_

 _Stop! Stop it! She's a child, a student. She was too good, too pure for the likes of him. Far too innocent. He would only ruin her. He would only break her._

But none of his rationality could explain why he wanted to hang Krum by his ankles and watch his blood pool onto the floor underneath of him. A dark look passed over Antonin's face as he thought about what he would do to the bastard if he failed to get his girl to the surface in time. _He'd learn the true meaning of the Dark Arts then…_

Just then Diggory and his person, Miss Chang he presumed, popped to the surface. _I swear if Krum isn't next…_ Antonin stood at the edge of the dock, staring into the settling water. He could feel his leg shaking in anticipation. When was the last time he had ever felt this tightly wound? All over a child at that…

 _Who gives a shit,_ was his final thought as a head of wet curls popped to the surface. She was sputtering water and flailing her hand around, trying to get a grip on the dock to pull herself up. Only instead of wood, she grabbed his waiting hand. He deftly pulled her slightly heavier body out of the freezing water. _Whose bright idea was it to have this task in February? Probably the same fool who thought it a good idea to put students at the bottom of the lake._

Keeping her body upright, Antonin grabbed a blanket out a nearby student's hands and wrapped it around the tiny witch shivering against him. He muttered a warming spell and watched a little bit of color return to the now smiling girl's cheeks. She was gazing up at him in adoration and he almost lost control of himself in that moment. Even soaking wet and freezing she was absolutely breathtaking.

"Herm-own-ninny, you are alright, yes?" A thick Bulgarian accent asked from beside them. Antonin's jaw ticked and he saw that she had noticed it, but her eyes didn't leave his as she responded to the younger male,

"Yes, Viktor, I'm fine now." She was fine with him. He was her protector. _She was his…_

When the task was finished, he was walking back from the docks, when a small figure jogged to catch up to him. Looking down, he saw that it was Hermione. Her hair was still damp and with the air growing colder with nightfall, he whispered a drying spell and snorted at the expression she shot him as she felt her curls instantly dry.

"You'll thank me when you don't get hypothermia," he suggested dryly, smiling slightly when he heard her attempt to stifle her giggles.

"I'm sure I will, professor. So, did you think the task went alright? It was pretty brilliant of Harry to use gillyweed. Even I hadn't considered that option. I thought the Bubble Head charm would've worked fine, even though Viktor did some impressive transfiguration on himself." Antonin wanted to groan and kiss her all at once. What a bizarre combination.

"I'm sure the task went by fine. I found myself to be too distracted to truly invest myself in it," he responded in an annoyed tone, instantly clueing her in on how he felt about the second task as a whole.

"Because I was involved?" He heard her ask softly. With a brief sigh, he found himself answering honestly,

"Yes, Miss Granger, because you were involved."

She paused for a moment, "I'm… I'm sorry, professor…" She sounded truly apologetic and Antonin felt bad that he had seemed to blame her for it. It really wasn't her fault, nor her idea. And he couldn't hold it against her for doing as the Headmaster bid. He had done the same and look where it had landed him?

"It wasn't your fault," he heard his voice say without his brain's permission. But still it continued, "I find myself worrying about you often, Miss Granger. And knowing that you were at the bottom of a freezing lake by choice was quite hard to swallow."

"So you do care about me, professor?" She asked the question so innocently that Antonin hadn't even thought out his response when he drawled out,

"Yes, you insufferable girl, I care for you." Her eyes held his as her smile brightened until it was practically blinding him. He saw her straightened teeth and felt another pang of regret. He hadn't protected her from Snape, git that he was. But he'd solve that problem another day.

"I care about you too, sir," came her excited voice yet again. Antonin's chest hurt at her words. Not many ever cared for him, especially after his decision after graduating and his actions afterwards. As they walked side by side, he found himself warming up to the idea of another human being caring for him. Worrying, fussing, comforting, it all sounded incredibly perverse but intoxicating at the same time.

"Thank you, Miss Granger." He finally said as they neared the entrance to the castle. He noticed her head turn up to stare at him again before her voice sounded out,

"You know, professor… I think that's the first time you ever thanked _me_ for something." Antonin raised an eyebrow and sent an amused glance down to her. Her smile widened and he felt himself mimicking her as they began to chuckle.

"Cheeky," he breathed out as they passed through the doors and back into the castle. An interesting development in Antonin's opinion. He cared for her and she for him.

 _She was his._

* * *

 _Hermione couldn't sleep._

How was she expected to when Cedric Diggory was dead, her best friend so despondent, and You-Know-Who having returned? Her mind was in complete chaos and she was afraid. She was so afraid that she hadn't stopped shaking since Harry returned with the Hufflepuff champions body.

It had been awful and now it was just getting worse. And she didn't know what to do. Was there anything she could do? It didn't feel like it. She couldn't help Harry. She couldn't even help herself in this moment.

What could she do? She needed to do something, anything to calm herself down. It wouldn't do well for her to have a panic attack at midnight. All her roommates had already fallen asleep, some in tears but sleeping nonetheless.

Getting out of her bed, she put on her slippers and walked out of her dorm room. She went down the steps and when she was in the common room, she thought the heat from the fireplace would warm her, but it had little effect on her. She was still cold. She was still terrified.

She needed warmth. She needed to feel something. _She needed Professor Dolohov…_

As soon as the thought hit her, she was crossing the room and exiting through the portrait hole. She needed him. He would know what to do. He would help her; she just knew it. And so in the middle of the night, dressed only in a t-shirt and pajama pants, she made her way down to the third floor.

His classroom was unlocked, so she let herself in. Walking through the aisles, she prayed that he was still awake. She needed him to be awake. She didn't know what she was going to do if he wasn't there. Could she justify her decision to sneak into his private rooms? Would that be the moment he stops caring for her?

 _She didn't really think so… he cared for her and he likes having her care for him…_

As she approached his office door, she raised her hand to knock, because she still had manners after all, but paused when she kept hearing a muffled banging noise. It sounded like someone was… hitting something. Repeatedly by the sound of it. Was her professor hurt? Or hurting someone…? She had forgone knocking and grabbed the door handle, slightly surprised when it twisted open, but preparing herself when she pushed open the door.

She looked into the room and didn't immediately see her professor. She took a tentative step inside and considered calling out for him when she turned to the left and saw the disarray on that side of the office. His desk and everything on it was broken and thrown across the floor. The slab of wood itself had several cracks and holes in it like someone had punched it. In fact, that seemed to be exactly what had happened when she watched the dark figure of her professor raise one of the fists he had planted on the desk and bring it down in a sickening crunching sound.

Hermione flinched and released an audible gasp. She watched Professor Dolohov freeze as his labored breathing filled the room. He kept his eyes pinned to the top of the disturbed wood as he rasped out,

 _What_ … do you _want_ …" Hermione didn't answer, but took several hesitant steps closer to his side of the room. She could see glass covering the floor, along with some sort of liquid that smelled distinctly of alcohol.

"I couldn't sleep…" she mumbled as she stepped a little closer, gauging his reaction as she did so. She realized his eyes were closed and that his entire body was shaking. _In anger, probably… She shouldn't be here… But she wanted to be._

"Professor…" She didn't realize she was crying until she heard the crack in her voice and the wetness rolling down her cheeks. Through her blurry vision, she saw his eyes open and glance up at her. And so she told him why she was here.

"I'm scared…"

She saw him nod slowly, considering her words, few as there were. "I know…" He finally said. He took his wand out and flicked it once. Hermione watched his room right itself in an instant. The desk fixed itself, the glass returned to its true form, the alcohol returned to its unbroken tumbler, and the candles suddenly lit, making the room look how it usually did.

Her professor pushed off the now unblemished desk and stalk to the corner of the room where he grabbed the bottle of alcohol off a stand. He continued walking once he had it, passing by her, before he collapsed onto his couch. His head hung off of the top as he leaned back. His eyes were closed again but he still brought the bottle up to his lips and took a straight drink from it.

Part of her mind was telling her that she should leave, but the louder part was urging her to go to him. That she wasn't the only one that needed comfort right now. So, she listened to her gut and went to sit next to her professor.

He didn't even react to the slight dip she made. Up close, Hermione noticed that he wasn't wearing any robes in that moment. He only had a burgundy button up shirt, black tie, and black trousers on. Still professionally dressed, but it was the most casual she had seen on him so far.

But he was still shaking… She could see it in the hand that was holding the bottle. It even shook the glass container as well. She didn't know why, but her hand automatically placed itself on top of his much larger hand. It still shook, but the warmth made her feel better, and when she looked up and met her professor's gaze, she could find the gratefulness in his eyes.

"Are you alright, sir?" Concern lacing her voice, she saw him consider her for a moment before he shook his head, a few loose tendrils of hair flowing with the motion. His eyes hardened as he stared past her and his lips thinned, creating a straight line.

"No…" She was going to ask him what was wrong, but he seemed to already know her thoughts and grimaced slightly before saying, "It hurts, Miss Granger."

"What hurts?" She asked, confused. His left hand, the one she wasn't holding, looked bruised and was split open in a few places, but she had a feeling that that wasn't what he was referring to. And she was right. He pulled his hand out of her grasp and unbuttoned the cuff around his left wrist and slowly slid the dark fabric up until Hermione was left staring at a strong forearm with course brown hair and what looked like a moving brand of the same mark they had seen at the Quidditch World Cup.

 _A skull with a snake coming out of its mouth…_

"What is…" She started but paused, looking up anxiously into her professor's despondent face.

"It is the Dark Mark, Miss Granger," he explained to her in a tense tone. "It is what the Dark Lord used to mark, honor, and contact his Inner Circle when he first rose to power."

"Inner Circle," she echoed, still staring up at him in a mixture of confusion and growing uneasiness. She shook her head cleared and immediately asked, "But professor, those people were his followers, his… his Death Eaters!"

She watched in horror as her professor nodded. "But… but sir, you aren't…"

"I was, Miss Granger. I was." He took another long drink from his bottle and the look on his face… It was filled with such guilt and pain and remorse. Was this the mystery? The secret he kept from everyone? That he had once been a Death Eater but was now a professor?

"And now it hurts because he's calling you…?" She asked, curious to know why it was hurting him and how to fix it.

"Yes," he winced before continuing, "And it will continue to hurt until I either answer the call or until he decides to forget about me."

"So you just have to wait then? Oh professor I'm sure he'll realize you aren't coming soon-" She heard him chuckle but it wasn't the same as she had heard before. It was lower, darker. _Dangerous._

"You're too innocent… The Dark Lord will continue to call me until either I answer or kill myself. He could continue it for the rest of my life if he chose to _." No…_ Hermione couldn't believe this… His only options were living with this pain in his arm, returning to a complete monster, or death.

"T-There must be another way, sir… You can't just go back to him or die…"

"I'm trying to find a solution. I don't particularly want to return either…" She saw his face contort slightly in pain before he took another drink. "Nor am I eager for death."

"I wish I could do something, professor…" She had never felt more useless in her entire life. Here was a man she respected and cared about, in pain and faced with such a difficult situation and there was nothing she could do…

"Perhaps there is a way for you to help me in this moment…" She heard his low voice respond. Her eyes flicked up and she saw a strange glint in her professor's eyes. It looked almost like he was… hungry…

"Anything. I'll do anything to help you, sir…" It was the truth. She wanted to be useful. She wanted to assist the man that always went out of his way to help and save her.

He placed the half full bottle of alcohol on the table in front of him and he turned his entire body towards her, his now free hand raising to cup her cheek in a repeat from the night of the Yule Ball. Would he kiss her, she wondered. She hoped he would…

And did he…

His lips tasted like whiskey as soon as they pressed against hers. The smell of sandalwood drifted around her and the spark of his hot skin on hers was electrifying. Her stomach felt like it had a coil inside of it that constricted every time his head tilted to rub against her in a new and delicious way.

She felt him press further into her and followed his silent suggestion, letting herself fall backwards until most of her body was flat on the couch with him hovering above her smaller body. He stared at her with a look a pure, intense affection spread across his face. Her heart thudded so loudly, he had to be able to hear it, or at least feel it.

"I won't do it," she heard him mutter. Whether to her or himself, she didn't know.

"I won't join them," he said, before lowering his face to hers. One of his hands kept him steady above her while the other had buried itself in her hair. "For you… Only for you Hermione…"

His lips caressed hers again and she thought that this was what people meant when they said that another living person could be considered home. This man… this dangerous, brooding, dark, but impossibly kind man was her home.

 _And she never wanted to leave._


	5. Year Five - Part One

**Year Five – Part One**

Hermione found that Grimmauld Place had lost its appeal after a few hours.

The moment that had happened, was when Harry had begun regaling what had happened when they found out the man they had thought was Professor Moody had actually been Barty Crouch Jr. Before the actual man had been drug to Azkaban, he had yelled for everyone in the vicinity to hear that Hogwarts had never been safe; not since members of You-Know-Who's Inner Circle inhabited it.

Harry hadn't known who he had been talking about. But the adults present were more than happy to indulge his curiosity. Professors Snape and Dolohov; the latter being the worse of the two. The Order had never had any hardcore evidence and Dumbledore apparently refused to hear anything on the subject, but the adults all believed him to be guilty of multiple crimes.

 _One of which was the murder of Mrs. Weasley's older twin brothers…_

Hermione had wanted to throw up her dinner after hearing that. She couldn't picture her professor murdering _anyone._ Maybe defending himself or stopping someone from attacking someone else, but not the cold-blooded murder he was being vehemently accused of.

But everyone seemed to be dead set on believing him to be guilty. And the only reason he hadn't been charged by the Ministry was because he had tricked the Headmaster into believing he was innocent and the only reason he was at Hogwarts was because he had been waiting for his "master" to return.

"Bet he ran off to join him the first chance he got," Sirius had said, still of the firm belief that her professor was evil. "I remembered him, from when we were in Hogwarts. Always hung around the other Death Eaters and most even looked up to him! The one Harry was talking about, Crouch, he was probably the worst of the fan club. Well… next to my own brother."

Hermione didn't want to hear anymore. She wanted to defend him. They hadn't seen him that night in his office. He had been so lost and so hurt… He didn't even _want_ to go back! He had fought through hours of pain and had probably endured days of it; if not more if it was still happening!

He didn't deserve to have his name smeared with vicious lies about him. The mark on his arm didn't change who he was. It only showed that he was human and made mistakes in his youth, just as many had! He can't change that, but he can learn from it and become a better person. And he had!

At least, Hermione thought he had. She _hoped_ he had.

When they finally returned to Hogwarts, the only thing on her mind had been to find Professor Dolohov and make sure he was alright. She had thought about owling him over the summer, but hadn't for fear that something bad might have happened. What, she didn't know, but it had just been a worry of hers. That and… she didn't know where he went over the summers. Perhaps he didn't even stay at Hogwarts.

When they all sat for the welcoming feast and Harry returned with blood on his face and a worrying tale about Draco Malfoy, Hermione had tried searching the Head Table for the familiar dark silhouette but found nothing. No dark brown head of wavy hair, no bottomless brown eyes finding hers, nothing…

 _Was he even here at all?_ Her stomach dropped at the thought. _What if he wasn't…?_

But the Headmaster only announced the new arrival of the Defense professor; a toad-like woman named Umbridge. She had too much pink for Hermione's taste and after that thought, her mind went obsessively back to the absence of one man. Maybe he was just not feeling well? That could be it…

She'd check his office after dinner.

And that couldn't come quick enough. Between Ron's disgusting table manners and Harry's nagging about Malfoy, Hermione just wanted familiar company that she didn't want to hit over the head with a book. So, after doing a quick patrol, since she _was_ a Prefect now, she paused outside the door to the third floor theory classroom.

Opening it, she slipped inside and noticed that the room was prepared for classes tomorrow, so he _must_ be here. She went to his office door and sharply knocked three times. She waited to hear the accustomed low toned voice, but instead there was the sound of footfalls before the door was opened from the inside to reveal the man on the other side.

He looked the same, she quickly took notice of. His robes were typical, his hair still styled back, the scruff at his throat and jaw still present, but it was his eyes that threw Hermione off. They held no warmth or welcome that they had begun to have. His eyes were still a chocolate brown, but cold and expressionless, much like how they had been when she first met him. When she had meant nothing.

"Hello, professor," she started, hoping that maybe a greeting would remind him that it was just her. But instead she just saw his jaw tense as his voice came out coarse and standoffish.

"My office hours don't start until tomorrow, Miss Granger. Return to your dormitory before I decide to dock points." Hermione's jaw dropped. What? Was this even the same man that just three months ago had kissed her and told her that he wouldn't rejoin his old allegiances for _her_?

"I know, sir, I was just worried-" She began, still trying to figure out where her professor had gone to.

"It is not your place to worry about what I do or don't do, Miss Granger. You are a student. A _child_." _Who was this man,_ she thought in horror. The finality of which he spat the remark on her age stung. It hurt worse than Professor's Snape jab at the size of her teeth last year… Not because it was any worse, but because it was _him_.

"I'm… sorry, sir. I'll just be… going…" Her voice was tentative, unsure, but he took her words and nodded crisply before closing the door to his office. He left Hermione outside with nothing but a growing dread in her gut.

What did this mean? What happened to him?

Did he…? He couldn't have. He told her he wouldn't. He practically promised that he wouldn't. He had told her that, for her, he wouldn't go…

Had he though? Had he rejoined the monster he once called "Master?"

 _Had he become a Death Eater again?_

* * *

 _Damn that woman…_

Hermione walked back to her dorm gripping her right hand fiercely. She could still feel the sting of the blood quill that had cut through her skin. The words ' _I will not question the Ministry'_ still slightly visible. She just wanted to scream. How dare that woman use these… barbaric instruments of torture against students!

Even the younger ones hadn't been safe from her. And it seemed none of the other professors were even knowledgeable about the going ons with this disgusting woman. Hermione had debated telling her Head of House, but… she already knew there was nothing that could be done. Umbridge was of the Ministry and right now, Hogwarts could do nothing but accept that.

 _If Professor Dolohov knew…_

No. Hermione physically shook her head. He'd do absolutely nothing. He might even give her detention just for suggesting it. That man had put a firm barrier between the two of them and Hermione didn't like it one bit. She missed being able to go to him with her problems. She missed the closeness they had once had.

She missed being able to soundly think that he was a good man.

Now she was just left with a detached lecturer who didn't appear any different to anyone other than Hermione. She couldn't even discuss the change with her friends. She was alone with this shift in behavior and she was alone with her fears.

 _It's the only plausible reason… He had to have rejoined the Death Eaters and that's why he hasn't changed his behavior with anyone other than me. It's just because we were close and his master wouldn't want him to be close to a Mudblood…_

Hermione sniffled slightly, before wiping her eyes with the back of her good hand. The other still hurt, but nowhere near as much as the possibility of Professor Dolohov's betrayal. That hurt her deep in her chest, in what she was coming to believe was her heart. She cared so much for him that this suspicion physically hurt her.

She felt a few tears well up in her eyes again and she wanted to curse herself for being so soft hearted. If this man had truly rejoined the Dark Side, then he didn't deserve any of this. He didn't deserve her tears or her worry or even her prayers. But… she cared and so, in a way, he still did deserve it. Or, if anything, he needed it.

The tears were growing in number and she wasn't quick enough to stop a few from falling. They left tracks down her face and her hand still _hurt_ and Professor Dolohov wasn't _speaking_ to her and there was something _wrong_ with Harry and there wasn't _anyone_ that she could talk to about this…

Hermione fell to her knees in the middle of the hallway. All of her doubts and worries and anxiety had finally caught up to her and she couldn't breathe. She was sucking in air the best she could, but it wasn't helping, her mind just wasn't working. Everything was spinning and confusing and Hermione just wanted to all to _stop._

Was she still crying? It felt like it. It sort of sounded like she may even be sobbing, but with the lack of oxygen, she couldn't be sure if it was that or just her body struggling to regain a steady airflow. Her body was wracking with it and she hoped that it would just stop. That she could just go.

She had vaguely registered the sound of quickening footfalls drawing closer and then a warmth spreading on her back, and moving towards her entire side. Like she was being enveloped in something. And there was a voice by her ear and it sounded so bloody _familiar_ but Hermione was still too confused to try to figure out who it was. But she began to focus on what the voice was saying, it was soothing her in a way.

"It's alright, Hermione, you're alright. Breathe, that's right, just breathe. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. There's a good girl. Just like that. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale." She found herself following along with its instructions, and found that it helped. Her breathing was calming down as she focused more and more on the act itself instead of what has happening inside her mind.

She was still shaking slightly, but it wasn't nearly as bad as what she had once registered it to be. But even that was slowly leaving her as she realized the warmth she had been feeling was a large hand on her back and a body crouching next to hers. She wanted to look up but she couldn't face whoever it was right now. She had just had a breakdown in the middle of the hallway. She, Hermione Granger, had lost herself for a moment…

"Come on, Granger. You're fine now." That voice again… But this time, Hermione knew exactly who it was. She looked up and met the cool stare of the man that had helped to cause her panic attack. He didn't look any different than he normally did as of late, except that… he looked to be forcing the current expression on his face. And his voice… it was close to being the same but it was like he was trying to get _himself_ to believe she was fine, rather than convincing her…

And she remembered that he had said her name when he was trying to calm her down. And there had been worry laced in his voice… She could still remember that. She wanted to yell at him, she wanted to hit him… But she didn't. All she did was nod and stand up, stepping away from him as she did. They had been too close and she knew he wouldn't want to be close to a Mudblood…

She crossed her arms and fisted the material of her robes to prevent herself from doing anything stupid. Her head dropped in submission and she waited to hear what his next orders were. She didn't want to see him right now. She didn't want him to be the one to find her like that. Not if he was only going to be cruel to her.

"What is that…?" She heard him ask. Flicking her gaze up, she saw his empty expression taking in the words on her right hand that had been slightly exposed. Pulling her robe down, she covered it and recrossed her arms, not allowing him to see it.

"Nothing, sir," she muttered, hoping he just left it alone. And for a moment, it seemed like he might have. He didn't move, he didn't say anything. But then he took a quick step towards her and grabbed her arm, yanking up the sleeve as he did. Hermione gasped and tried to pull away but his grip was too strong.

His voice was close as he angrily said, "Damn it Granger, don't _lie_ to me." He lifted her injured hand and inspected the writing that had been carved into it closely. She kept her eyes downcast, not wanting to see his reaction to it. _Would he even care?_

He spoke again as he released her limb, "Who?"

Hermione could feel her ire spiking as she steadily ignored his question. Hoping he would just let her go on her way. But that didn't seem to be the case as it seemed he was just going to make them stand there until she answered his question. With a quick breath, she mumbled out, "Umbridge."

They stand there for several more moments and Hermione doesn't understand why. He's quiet, he hasn't moved, and now he was… _shaking_ …? Looking up slowly, Hermione's gaze went to his face and she almost audibly gasped. His face was contorted into a look of pure rage. Eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring, mouth tight. She could practically see the rage rolling off of him.

"Professor…" She tried, hoping that he would stop whatever _this_ was. His murderous eyes shifted to look down at her and then they began to soften in a way that was so familiar to Hermione. She wanted to cry out in relief because this was the man she remembered. _This_ was _her_ professor.

And then she was engulfed in the smell of sandalwood and a warmth that was uniquely his. She was pulled against his large frame and held close by his large hands. She still barely came up to the bottom of his chin, but it was still comfortable, still a safe embrace. Hermione reveled in it, after having had dealt with his dismissive behavior for weeks.

"I'm so sorry… I didn't protect you. I thought it was best. I thought this _was_ protecting you. Please forgive me, Hermione… Please…" Hermione wanted to, she wanted to soothe the panic she could hear in his voice, the desperation. But she was still so confused. And… she was angry.

Shoving out of his embrace was hard to do, because she wanted nothing more than to stay in it, but she had a bone to pick with this man. Stepping away from him, she ignored the hurt in his expression as she said, "No, No! You don't get to play this hot and cold game with me. You don't get to kiss me one minute and then ignore me the next. You don't get to be distant and then try to hug me. It doesn't work like that, sir!" Her hands had migrated to her hips and she knew she probably looked like Molly Weasley when she yelled at her children but _damn it_ , this man was just insufferable right now.

He stared at her in a mixture of surprise and bewilderment, before opening his mouth to speak. But before he could even say a single word, Hermione was going off again, "And if the next words out of your mouth aren't an explanation for your behavior then you had better just take points and send me to bed because I don't want to hear it."

"If you'd let me get in a bloody word, maybe that was exactly what I was _going_ to do," he growled out at her, his eyes narrowing in annoyance.

"Then, by all means, do so." She crossed her arms defiantly and held his glare with one of her own. Two could play at his tough guy act. Until she felt his hand on her arm and dropped her eyes to look at it.

"Not here," she heard him say as he tugged on her to follow him. And she did, because she really did want to know what had been happening with him. Or, well, what had happened _to_ him.

He took her straight to his third floor classroom and then into his office. Excitement bubbled inside of her at being in the familiar setting again. She sat on the couch as he shrugged off his teaching robes, leaving him in the same professional attire she remembered from before. It looked really good on him, she observed. Especially the trousers which clung to his clearly toned muscles and-

 _Stop right there Granger! You came for an explanation, not to ogle the wizard._

He took the spot next to her on the couch and reclined slightly, watching her with wariness set in his eyes. She on the other hand, kept her posture straight and her hands folded neatly in her lap. She wouldn't relax until she had a proper reason to.

"You believe I've rejoined my old allegiance, don't you?" He finally asked. She dropped her gaze and nodded slightly, not wishing to voice her concerns out loud. She heard his heavy sigh and briefly flicked her gaze back up to him as he began to speak again,

"I lasted weeks, Hermione. I ignored him and ignored him until he began personally calling for me… That pain, I had only experienced once in my life; when I had first received the Mark. So I went to him. I thought I would be walking straight into my death, but as it turns out, he had been… pleased. I had deeply indebted myself to Dumbledore and as such, was in a prime spot to spy on him. I'm not a Slytherin without reason, so I made the deal. I kept my life and was exempt from being a more… active follower. In return, I have to give him information about Hogwarts, Potter, and Dumbledore."

Hermione listened to him regal his tale with a mixture of apprehension, horror, and sadness. He had lasted so long only to be forced to go anyways… And now to keep his life, he had to betray the Headmaster…

"Don't look so despondent," she heard him breathe out. Confusion crossed her face as she looked up at him. "As soon as I returned to Hogwarts, I informed the Headmaster of what had happened. He had suspected something like this and encouraged me to meet with him regularly so that we could make sure the only information passed to the Dark Lord is information we want him to have."

"So you're a spy?" She asked tentatively.

"Suppose so. Albus didn't say I _had_ to tell him of anything I see or hear, but… I can't really not do so in good conscience, now can I?" Hermione shook her head slightly, pondering his words. So… he was pretending to be a Death Eater? It made sense, if you thought about it from a Slytherin perspective. And her professor was just that.

"I'm sorry I ever doubted you, professor," she finally said, feeling wetness tinge the corner of her eyes again. She could hear him chuckle slightly and felt him slid closer to her on the couch, his hand rubbing her back soothingly.

"I gave you plenty of reason to. After what had happened that night… Please forgive me for that as well, Hermione. I was drunk and my mind had been so chaotic and I took advantage of your kindness." She could see the guilt in his own gaze, he truly meant that.

"Is that why you've been acting so detached lately?" He paused for a moment before slowly nodding.

"Yes… I crossed a professional boundary. You are still my student, Hermione. Still underage. It's not appropriate for that to happen." She understood, really she did. But she still wanted him like this… Close, comforting, _home._

"I'm seventeen, professor… The Time Turner from third year…" Her voice trailed off as she saw his annoyed expression of being reminded of that incident. That's right… He had worried about me even then.

"Regardless, we still have to keep some modicum of distance. You may still come to me with your qualms, and we can continue on with our… care of one another. But there _has_ to be a line, Hermione, you understand that, don't you?" She quickly nodded her head.

"Of course, sir. So I suppose kissing is out of the question?" He breathed out a laugh and shook his head in disbelief.

"Yes, I'm afraid so." Hermione perked up at his words. So… he still wanted to kiss her? Pocketing that information away for later, she decided to ask him about something else weighing on her mind.

"Professor, we've started our own defense class. Because Umbridge hasn't been teaching us anything." He nodded in understanding.

"I've noticed. The vile woman thinks that no one notices what she's been doing," he growled out, before flicking his wand to summon something. It was essence of murtlap… Oh!

"Put that on the cuts. They'll disappear before morning." She did as he asked, still talking as she did.

"Anyways, we've been trying out different offensive spells, but I was wondering if there were any defensive ones that you knew of? Shield charms, deflecting spells?"

"I have a few tomes on the subject," he summoned three different books from his shelves and placed them on the table in front of them. "These should do. They contain enough useful and practical spells. And…" He summoned another book and handed it to her instead of putting it on the table. "This contains many interesting and unique nonlethal trapping charms. Use it at your own discretion."

"Thank you, sir…" She looked up and smiled softly, so pleased to see a mirrored expression on his own face. She had missed him and missed this. This closeness…

"If Umbridge ever tries to give you detention again, tell her you're late for a meeting with me. Trust me, it'll work." At her raised eyebrow, he chuckled slightly before explaining to her, "I may or may not have scared her at our first staff meeting."

Hermione covered to mouth as she began to giggle, "Of course you did. Lucky for her though that she doesn't know what a big pushover you are." She saw him dramatically roll his eyes in exasperation and laughed a little harder. He laughed a bit as well before pinning her with a more serious expression,

"Only with you, _malyutka_. Only with you."

Was that… a Russian word? Had he just called her some Russian sort of endearment?

 _Merlin she hoped so._

"Can I… Can I stay for a bit longer?" She hesitantly asked, hoping with her entire being that he would say yes.

"For a bit," he conceded. Hermione wanted to jump for joy, but repressed the urge and merely picked up on the defensive books he had recommended to her. She turned to watch him as he relaxed on the couch, watching the flames dance in his fireplace. The reflecting shadows on his face mesmerized her. He was quite handsome.

And so she did something that went completely against what they had previously been speaking about. She scooted back on the couch until her back and head hit his chest and arm. He didn't say a word as she snuggled into him and opened the book to begin reading. The warmth coming from him was perfect and she was surrounded by his presence. It was the most comfort she had had in months.

After a few chapters, she felt her eyelids begin to grow heavy. She thought about getting up and returning to her dormitory, but then she listened carefully and heard the deep breathing on the man behind her. Was he already asleep? Being careful, Hermione tilted her head up and sure enough, his eyes were closed and his head had lolled to the side.

He looked even more beautiful asleep. There were no lines on his face and it made him look so much younger than she suspected he was. After listening to Sirius and Lupin during her stay at Grimmauld Place, she figured the man she was currently laying on had to be about thirty-nine or forty. The Marauders were thirty-five and her professor had been four years ahead of them.

Still, he wasn't too old. Relatively young in the wizarding world, not even middle age. Smiling to herself, Hermione placed the book back on the coffee table and sunk back into the heat that had been surrounding her. Closing her eyes, she felt herself begin to drift to sleep. Her last coherent being something like:

 _Hopefully my roommates won't notice._


	6. Year Five- Part Two

**Year Five – Part Two**

* * *

The first thing Antonin realized upon waking was that he was not in his bed. But that wasn't all that odd. He sometimes passed out on his couch after a long night of drinking and even once on the floor but he wasn't particularly proud of that occasion.

The second thing was a snug weight on his chest and left arm. It wasn't uncomfortable, far from it actually, but he knew it wasn't something he would ever feel upon waking up. He inhaled deeply and caught the familiar scent of vanilla and strawberries. _Hermione…?_ His groggy brain instantly questioned.

His eyes opened slowly as he began to take in the sight of the little witch curled up next to him. She was positioned in between his chest and the back of the sofa with her wild curls pushed up and over his resting arm. He stared at her, hypnotized by her plump, parted lips and the overall peaceful expression she had when asleep.

 _She resembled an angel_ , his still waking mind registered. _With a halo of brown curls._

Shaking his head slightly, he tried to remember what he had told himself months ago. He had gotten too close, too involved. He was her professor, an adult, someone she looked up to and respected. And he had taken advantage of that position. He had forced himself on her and she had let him because he was in pain and she was too kind.

 _Never again_ , he had promised the both of them. He wouldn't slip up like that again. He wouldn't take her kindness and besmirch it like he had done that night in his office. And he would stop trying to argue with himself about it. Images of her enraptured face and swollen lips had become permanent fixtures in his ever active mind. He had tried telling himself at first that she had enjoyed it. But that soon hadn't mattered, because even if she had, he had still crossed a line.

He was older, _painfully_ older than her. He should have been more responsible. But he also wanted to crawl inside of her and never leave. And that was why he had tried, _desperately_ , to keep a distance between them. He couldn't be trusted any longer, at least not around her. He was too eager to break the rules with her. He was too eager to accept her attention and give his own.

 _He was too eager to ruin her for any other male._

He _had_ to keep her away. With thoughts like that… Merlin, he was disgusting. A child. A _schoolgirl._

The same one that was pressed so closely into his side. Who was so naïve that she willingly fell asleep next to him. But she didn't know. How could she? He was her professor, someone she trusted to look after her and protect her.

What kind of man did it make him when he can't even protect her from himself?

Antonin exhaled raggedly, still surprised that he hadn't yet woken up the sleeping girl. Craning his neck, he found his clock and saw that it was still early in the morning. No one would be in the hallways and she could slip back unnoticed if she went soon. Now he just had to find it in himself to wake her up…

He didn't want to be cruel. He knew that it only hurt the both of them in the long run. These past few months had been agony for him. Seeing her hurt expressions and the sadness that had begun to settle in her eyes during his class periods with the fifth year Gryffindors drove him to drink even more than usual. She always looked so desolate and lost whenever he saw her then. And he knew it to be his own fault. He had ignored her, spurned her, been cold to her. He deserved the guilt that ate away at him following every class with her.

He knew after finding her sobbing in the hallway that he couldn't keep that façade any longer. He cared far too much for the girl. He had panicked just at the sight of her tears and had been ready to murder at the carvings on her hand. That reminded him… Umbridge. He planned to deal with her soon enough. She had shown her fear of him at first meeting. Only what Antonin hadn't told Hermione was the strange attraction she had soon developed for him.

She constantly took the seat next to him during every meal, practically forced him into conversation, came to his classroom as often as she could, even tried his office on a few occasions. She would _commend_ him on his pure blood status and his many achievements from his own years at Hogwarts. Although being too young to have gone to school with him, she still heard much about him even after his graduation.

The thought disgusted him.

In private, she marveled at his skills as a professor and how he would have made a powerful position if he had chosen to work for the Ministry instead. Possibly even Minister of Magic, she had said one evening. Who in their right mind actually _wanted_ that job?

Fudge obviously didn't count if the daft bastard couldn't even realize that the Dark Lord had returned. Seems the entire Ministry wanted to turn a blind eye to that fact, including Umbridge. Seeing as that was why his little witch and her friends were constantly punished.

But he had already formed an acceptable plan of revenge. One that may have a few downsides for himself, but plenty to gain.

He chuckled slightly at the thought but ceased when he felt the smaller body next to his begin to stir. Antonin watched the little witch stretch further into him, before apparently remembering where she was and who she was practically on top of.

"Professor…?" She asked timidly, her eyes opening slowly, before her whiskey gaze met his own. Her face had heated in embarrassment and was now looking very red. Antonin found it endearing and even more of a reason why she needed to go.

"I think it's time you returned to your dormitory, don't you?" He kept his tone light, conversational, and she seemed to relax more after realizing that he wasn't angry with her. Why would he be? _He_ had fallen asleep first after knowingly letting her rest against him. But damn it all if he wasn't a thirsty man with a glass of water.

"Right now?" He heard her mumble, clearly not interested in getting up in that moment. And while Antonin fully shared her sentiments, he had to be the one to draw the line. She would rely on him to know the boundary of their relationship.

"I'm afraid so." She nodded her head and shuffled slightly, trying to figure out how to get off of him he guessed. So he took the initiative and pushed himself off of the couch, holding out a hand to help her up. She accepted it with a grateful smile and stretched as soon as she was to her feet. Antonin knew it was wrong, knew he should walk away or at least _look_ away. But he was too mesmerized by her petite figure held taunt directly in front of him.

She didn't have a woman's body; well, not _yet_ at least. But he could picture it. See what a woman she would become one day. And the stirring he began to feel meant that she had to go and go _now._

"I can cast a Disillusion Charm to make sure you don't get in any trouble for my mistake," he offered, hoping she would just accept and leave before he did anymore foolish things.

"Your mistake, sir?" She asked instead. Antonin wanted to groan, of course she would pick up on that.

"I told you only last night that there had to be distance, Miss Granger. Allowing myself to fall asleep instead of sending you back to your dorm went entirely against that."

She furrowed her brows, "That's not your fault, professor. It's an accident. Besides, the fault would be mine as well since I knew I should have left, but didn't." At her confession, Antonin felt his eyes widen. She had purposely stayed with him? Why did that thought excite him?

Clearing his throat, he replied, "Still… It cannot happen again-"

"Ever?" She interrupted, eyes big and brown and full of nervousness and hope. How could he reject her in this moment? Would any man even be able to if they were in his place? He tried going for a safer answer instead,

"That's not appropriate-" He started, only to be cut off by tears beginning to well up in the girl's eyes. What? No! He didn't think that was counted as rejection, he just didn't want to bloody talk about it! Scrambling, he ran a frustrated hand through his hair before, "Alright, alright… I suppose if it happens again then it happens…"

Curse his soft heart with this witch. But the smile she bestowed upon him was well worth the annoyance he felt towards himself.

"Thank you, sir… Before I go, could I hug you?" It wasn't a matter of whether or not he wanted her embrace. It was if he could control himself if she did. The first time she had ever wrapped herself around him, he had been caught off guard and therefore hadn't had enough time to let his thoughts wander. But now… they were all over the place.

His gaze softened at her hopeful expression and he knew he would let her. It meant so much to her to be close to him and who was he to deny that? If she gathered any sort of comfort from him, odd as it may be, then he wouldn't deny that. He could keep the line between them without cutting her off from that. Or, at least, he thought he could.

"Make it quick, Granger," he said in feigned exasperation. She giggled slightly before quickly wrapping her thin arms around his waist and pushing herself into his chest. He let his own arms trail behind her and kept a light weight on her back, returning to embrace but ensuring that he kept a semi-professional distance. It wouldn't do to pull her to him as he had done last night when the weight of his failure had come to light. She had been hurt because he had distanced himself.

 _Never again._

* * *

Antonin thought that he and Hermione had settled into pretty familiar roles after that night. They'd greet and occasionally exchange pleasantries outside of class. He'd allow her to stay after if neither had a class immediately after and chat with him. She was welcomed to use his office hours to her own advantage and usually came to scour his extensive book collection.

What surprised Antonin the most was how no one seemed to notice. Sure, it wasn't completely unusual for Hermione Granger to be seen with a professor, but he at least thought a few questions would be raised about all the time she was specifically spending with _him_. Granted, Dumbledore was a little preoccupied dealing with the Ministry and Umbridge's new "status", but no one else appeared concerned about his continuous liaisons with Miss Granger.

The only one who gave any indication that something was different was Snape, but Antonin hardly cared about him. If he tried using it against him, the older wizard was savvy enough to worm his way out of trouble. He'd been doing it practically all of his life. And he wouldn't be losing to the big nosed man anytime soon.

But the look the surly Potion's Master had sent Antonin's way one morning told him to be cautious of the wizard. He had made eye contact with his little witch and returned a small smile to her bright one, only to look away and meet the darker gaze of his colleague. The man hadn't done or said anything, just given him something of a curious look before turning back to his breakfast.

Antonin wasn't worried, but he wouldn't forget about it either.

He didn't have anything to overly worried about. There wasn't anything in the rule book preventing student/teacher relationships; whether friendships, romantic, or sexual. But it _was_ frowned upon in modern society and could still cost him his job if he wasn't careful.

But they hadn't done anything more than hug since that night in his office. They barely even touched each other. Only when he would hand her tea or a book would their fingers occasionally brush against one another. They didn't even sit too close to each other on the couch. It was professional. It was _fine._

But _Merlin_ did he want more.

Being so close to her was a game of self-control every single time. He prided himself on it at this point. All the moments he could have leant in and taken her lips. All the times he could have brushed away the loose tendrils of hair. Every instance where he wanted to feel her warmth against him again. He ignored them all.

And she was non-the-wiser. She just continued smiling prettily and clambered for his attention whenever she could. It was exhausting, but he did it because it made her happy. And if she was happy then he could rest easy.

Until one particularly memorable evening.

Antonin had been busy reading up on new research about the mechanics of magical energy in pureblood families when the door to his office had abruptly opened. He knew right away that it couldn't be Hermione. She was always polite and knocked first. He figured whoever it was would go ahead and speak or they could wait until he was finished this page.

When the individual was silent, he continued reading; not even glancing up once as he skimmed the lines. It wasn't until the obnoxiously familiar sound of ' _hem, hem_ ' permeated his office space that Antonin's eyes lifted to take in the grotesquely pink form of Umbridge. But what intrigued him more was Hermione's tiny form still standing in his doorway, head angled down but a fierce look on her face.

Looking back to the smiling woman in front of him, he arched a single eyebrow and drawled out, "How can I help you this evening… High Inquisitor…" Just bloody saying the title made him feel ridiculous, but the witch looked very pleased with his usage of it. And he would need to play his cards right tonight by the looks of it.

"I caught Miss Granger wandering around the castle and she attempted to give me some preposterous story of how she was on her way to your office, professor. She said she often comes during your office hours to discuss theory and principles with you. But, of course, I had the hindsight to know that you are an extremely busy man and would have no such time for her childish questions. She insisted I ask you though and rest assured that as soon as I know she was lying; I will take great pleasure in disciplining her."

Antonin stood from his desk and measuredly stepped away from it and into the room, watching the woman as she spoke. He appeared disinterested, but forced himself to take on a mild look of surprise at the end of her statement.

"I am… flattered, that you have chosen to regard me at such heights, Madam Umbridge," he hated the way she looked when she shivered at his words. But this was for his witch and his witch only. "But Miss Granger has told you the truth. She has a firm grasp on my preferred subject matter and has been applying herself to more advanced levels these past few weeks." He kept his eyes away from the girl, lest he ruin everything by showing his true emotions. Stepping closer to the older witch, he continued,

"Since you do not have to waste your own precious time with Miss Granger… Perhaps you would like to stay for a drink? You came all the way here; it would be a shame to waste the trip." Her eyes widened comically but Antonin schooled his features to appear neutral. His plan had to go off without any hitches.

"O-Oh? Well, yes. Yes, I suppose I could stay for a drink or two," her toadlike face was growing redder and redder as the seconds ticked by. At her acceptance, Antonin inclined his head respectfully before finally looking up at the shocked girl in the doorway.

"Tomorrow, Miss Granger." She held his gaze for several seconds, searching for something before finally nodding her head. With one last look, she stared at the two of them before stepping back and closing the door to his office behind her.

Antonin went to start the tea, listening to the woman still in his office prattle on and on about the strange activity going on with _'those Gryffindors_.' He knew she meant the secret defense club that Hermione had started with Potter and Weasley, but she certainly didn't need to know that he knew about it. So he kept quiet as he poured their tea into cups by hand.

Before he turned around, he muttered out a strong silencing charm. It wouldn't do well for anyone to eavesdrop on his conversation. His Floo Network was already closed for the evening as well. He wouldn't have any distractions. Any disruptions.

Walking back over to the woman, he dropped himself into the space right beside her on the couch, handing her a cup of tea as he did. He watched her sip it once, twice, before she set it on the coffee table in front of them.

"Well, as I was saying, I'm sure Dumbledore is hiding something. Why else would his little minions be acting so suspicious? If the Minister and I had it _our_ way, he'd be out of this school before you could say…"

She had been in the process of waving her hands in the air for emphasis when they suddenly dropped right onto her lap. Her whole body in fact seemed to crumple back onto the couch, resembling a still marionette.

"P-Professor Dolohov? I-… I can't seem to move… Has something-?" With a soft shushing sound, Antonin placed a single finger over her lips, ceasing her prattle instantly. He watched her with an intensity that he remembered from his younger years. Predatory intent, others had called it.

"It's nothing more than a mild paralysis. It will wear off in about an hour or so," he explained to her. He would know enough about it, seeing as he stole it from Snape's storage closest and put it into her drink.

"Paralysis?" She echoed.

"Mm. You won't be able to control any part of your body, but you'll still be able to speak and feel." He watched a myriad of expressions cross her face before she met his calm gaze once again.

"And why has this happened to me?"

"Because we're going to chat." At his words, she looked even more befuddled, if that were even possible. Her face wasn't exactly moving that much.

"You… You paralyzed me, so we could chat? I thought we were already doing so-"

"That was your definition of chatting. This is mine," he replied, taking a small sip of his own tea before dumping the rest of the scalding liquid onto her skirt covered lap. Her screams were instantaneous as the tea burnt her thighs.

"And I'm afraid my definition is not nearly as pleasant as your own." She was still making some strange whimpering sound. The discomfort of having a hot drink poured directly onto your skin can do that.

"How could you-" She started, anger starting to appear in her voice, giving her more confidence than he knew she possessed.

"Easily," he responded coolly. Pulling out his wand, he sent a wordless spell to his office door and at the woman's nervous expression, he explained, "You wouldn't want anyone walking in right now, would you? To see how the mighty have fallen…"

The confused look in her eyes didn't fade until Antonin turned to look at her. "Now, Dolores, please don't tell me you haven't a clue as to what this is about? Torturing students, even in the name of the Ministry, is still frowned upon."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He paused before he raised his arm and backhanded the woman across her face with a force that shifted her body several inches on the sofa.

"Don't you dare lie to me, you filthy half-blood." At his words, her mouth began to open and close rapidly as a rising amount of fear began to creep into her eyes.

"Ah, yes… I know what you are Dolores Umbridge. You may be Onford Umbridge's daughter, but it doesn't make your mother any less of a disgusting, inferior Muggle." Antonin did not personally believe the words he was saying, but he knew that they were the ones that would hurt this woman the most. And he did have the bad habit of playing with his food before he ate it.

"No… No, you're wrong, I'm a pureblood-!"

"And your brother… A _squib_ … What a disgrace to the Umbridge name. What a disgrace to the wizarding world. You call yourself a Slytherin, but you are nothing more than a leech. Attaching yourself to others more powerful than you to worm your way up in society. Do you think that makes you a pureblood? Do you honestly _believe_ it makes you like _me_?"

"I am a Dolohov. One of the proudest names in Russia's wizarding society. My family goes back hundreds of generations. _Years_ of absolute blood purity. No mixing of Muggles, no non-magical individuals at all. I am _your_ superior, Dolores. And you'd do well to remember that."

He pointed his wand at her, and relished in the rising panic he could see in her eyes. "What am I, Dolores?" He asked innocently enough.

"M-my… superior." She almost choked on her words, but said them nonetheless.

"And what are you?" It was too bad their game would be coming to a close soon.

"A f-filthy… h-half-blood…" His lips twisted into a dangerous and teeth filled grin as his eyes widened with malice.

"Precisely. And you'll never forget that. I'll make sure of it… _Crucio_."

He tortured her at different intervals. Always making sure that in between each she remembered what she was. He scolded her like a child for her treatment of the children. He berated her like a disappointed parent for holding the Ministry to such heights. He taunted her for her "unfortunate" blood status. He promised her reprieve every time, but never truly gave it to her.

And when it came time for their game to end, he made sure she realized her biggest mistake.

 _Harming his witch._

She screamed the longest for that punishment. Antonin truly meant that more than anything else. He wanted her to suffer just as his little witch had. He wanted her mistake to remain with her for as long as her pathetic life lasted.

And then the game was over.

He _Obliviated_ her, of course. But left the feelings. She would truly know what she was. She would remember the pain associated with everything he had tortured her for. And he suspected she would stay far, far away from Hermione Granger.

And when he sent her from his office with nothing but altered memories and new fears, he thought for a moment that perhaps he truly hadn't changed from his previous life.

But then he remembered his own sensibilities. That vile woman had hurt someone he cared about.

 _She's lucky she wasn't dead for it_.

* * *

 _This was the stupidest thing Harry was ever done. By far._

Nothing in their past four years even came close to this instance. They were being chased by Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries because Harry couldn't listen to her. Just once! Once was all she asked for. But no, now they were going to end up hurt or dead because of his stubbornness.

She had wanted to find a professor; Professor Dolohov at least! He could have helped or at least talked her best friend down. He had somehow gotten Umbridge to leave her and her friends alone for _weeks,_ after he had had some sort of chat with her. But, instead, Harry went off halfcocked to find Sirius when they didn't even know if he was actually in danger or not. And as it turned out, he wasn't! He had been tricked, just as Hermione suspected.

Lucius Malfoy had tried remaining civil, and Hermione had actually hoped that Harry would just _give_ him the _bloody_ prophecy so they could go home. But another part of her knew that that wasn't going to be the case. Even if they had surrendered, they wouldn't have gone home the same.

And that led to Hermione and Ginny barricading themselves in an empty office, trying to figure out how they were going to make it out of the Ministry alive. The redhead was shaking next to her, but had a determined look on her face. Until they heard the click of the door unlock.

Two masked figures entered the room, one's wand lighting a Lumos to help them better inspect the darkness. Hermione held her breathe as they walked past the two crouching Gryffindors. Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest at the adrenalin racing through her.

 _Please don't look over here… Please don't catch us… Please… Please… Please…_

But as it turns out, Ginny wasn't willing to wait for them to merely move past them and cast a forceful ' _Stupefy_ ' at the nearest figure. Hermione knew then that she had to get away from the enclosed space. There wasn't any room to maneuver, to fight. She flung a curse at one of the figures, hitting it straight in its chest. It crashed across the room as she tried getting past a desk and ducking an oncoming hex at the same time. It didn't end well for her as her ankle ended up twisting the wrong way.

The cracking sound her ankle made alerted her instantly to the damage done. She sprawled to the ground with a pained gasp. Looking up, she saw the masked figure staring down at her, it's wand raising to point directly at her face. But she wasn't going to close her eyes. She was determined to be defiant until the end.

She stared into her would-be attacker's eyes and waited for the hex that never came. Almost as soon as the figure's mouth opened, the door next to them opened and a second figure's fist connected with the side of the Death Eater's face. Scrambling for her wand, Hermione watched as the skeletal mask skid across the floor and she was left staring at a man with long brown hair whose murderous glare was focused on the figure standing next to her.

"What are you-?!"

"Petrificus Totalus!" Hermione shouted, freezing the man where he was. Her heart felt like it had jumped into her throat as she lowered her wand. A blur of red appeared by her side and she saw Ginny's eyes go wide at something. Turning to see what it was, Hermione could only watch a black cloak sweep by her. The figure that she presumed had saved her pointed their wand at the man Hermione had frozen. It muttered a spell that neither girl could hear and a flash of white light erupted before it was gone.

"Professor…?" Hermione heard her friend ask from beside her. The brunette's head snapped up as the cloaked figure turned, and even in the dimly lit room, Hermione could tell it was him; _her_ professor.

He stepped closer to them and the light from the opened door shed some light on the wizard's features. But through Hermione's happiness at seeing him, there was also a feeling of dread that was beginning to stir in her gut.

 _Why was he wearing the same cloak as the other Death Eater's…?_

"Are you two alright?" He asked as he crouched down to their level, concern etched into his features. Ginny nodded absentmindedly from beside her while Hermione's gaze left his to shoot a worried glance at her swollen ankle. Professor Dolohov's eyes followed hers and he reached out to gently inspect the injured limb. At Hermione's grimace of pain, he laid it back on the floor.

"With that angle, it's most likely broken," he stood up and offered Hermione his hand. "Here. Get off the floor then we'll work on getting you two out of here." She let him pull her up and sat her on a desk before asking,

"What about the others?" He seemed to consider her words before replying,

"They should be somewhere nearby. I'll ward this door and find them. Miss Weasley will stay here with you." Ginny nodded at his words and Hermione watched as he warded the two doors and secured the two unconscious Death Eaters before he left the office they were in.

"Do you think he'll find them in time?" Hermione asked, trying to distract herself from the fact that now her professor was putting himself at risk as well.

"Do you think he'll actually bring them back in one piece, is what I think you meant to say."

"What do you mean?" At the redhead's cryptic words, Hermione turned to look at her. Ginny wore a pensive expression as she stared at the doorway their professor had just left through.

"He's wearing their cloak, Mione. That means he came here with them. He's one of them."

"You don't know that, Gin…" Hermione didn't want to believe that. She couldn't. She knew him better than that. "He could have disguised himself so that he could get to us-"

"Then how did he know we were here?" At the girl's question, Hermione fell silent. She didn't know how he would have known that. Unless…

 _No… No!_ Even if he had been ordered to do this, he was still helping them now. He was still going to save them.

Multiple banging sounds gained their attention and Ginny's grip tightened on her wand as a shadow appeared outside of the door. Hermione raised her own wand but was surprised to see Neville appear instead of some psychotic Death Eater.

"Hermione? Ginny?" He asked nervously before trying to walk through the doorway. Only… He couldn't. The wards Professor Dolohov had set up were still in place but as soon as Hermione remembered, Neville was suddenly in front of them, followed closely by a dazed looking Luna.

"Where's-?" Ginny started, before the dark figure of their professor passed though the doorway with a bloodied body suspended in midair behind him.

"Ron!" Hermione gasped, recognizing the familiar red hair.

"What happened to him?!" Ginny demanded, a fierce glare on her face. She looked at the older wizard like it had been _his_ fault. _And it wasn't_ , Hermione thought forcefully. _He wouldn't hurt any of us._

"He was struck by Dark Magic. I preformed the counter curse so his life is no longer in danger, but he will remain unconscious from the loss of blood." Ginny still looked slightly panicked as she stood next to her brother's floating figure.

"He just needs Blood Replenishing potions, Miss Weasley. He'll be fine," her professor promised. And despite Ginny's earlier words of distrust towards the man, she nodded gratefully.

Hermione wanted to wrap her arms around the wizard and never let go. She couldn't even believe that she had ever distrusted him for a single moment. Sure, she had questions, but she knew she would get an explanation so long as they all made it out of here alive.

"We need to go," Professor Dolohov said, looking at all of them with an unidentifiable expression.

"What about Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Aurors are with him," Neville answered instead of their professor. "Luna and I saw Professor Lupin and Moody with him."

"They were heading towards the Death Chamber," Luna remarked dreamily.

"Then we're heading in the opposite direction," the older wizard finished. "How did you arrive here?"

"Thestrals," Hermione answered. She watched the man appear deep in thought before he shook his head slightly.

"Apparation then. There are wards in these offices preventing it though. We'll have to get to the nearest point, which should be directly outside of the department. Getting to it will be the tricky part."

"We're just going to leave Harry here?" Ginny demanded to know.

"He's with Aurors. You lot are only with me. And we're getting out of here before anyone else gets hurt." The look on his face gave no more room for arguments. "Now, hold onto Mr. Weasley and keep up."

Hermione saw him turn towards her and in one swift motion one of his arms went under her knees while the other went around her waist. She was lifted bridal style and only had a moment to wrap her own arms around the man's neck before he took off at a quick pace, moving through offices until he reached the corridors.

She kept an eye on her friends struggling to keep up with the long legged man. Luna was the closest to them while both Ginny and Neville had a hand on Ron who was just being drug along. They moved through the corridors, the sound of their footsteps and her professor's breathing being the only thing she hears.

When they reached what appeared to be the exit to the department, Professor Dolohov stopped suddenly and quickly motioned for the others to do the same. He gingerly put her down, letting her lean against Luna for support as he went to open the door.

As he opened it, voices were heard on the other side and Hermione suddenly found herself unable to move or speak and floating inches off of the floor by some magical force. The door opened all of the way and they were pulled inside what appeared to be a waiting room. Hermione's eyes darted around and took in the sight of two new figures wearing similar cloaks as her professor.

 _Death Eaters again…_

"What do you have here, Dolohov? Are those…" One of the figures started, coming a little closer to them. It was then that Hermione noticed that her professor's wand was pointed at them. The magic binding them was from _him._ "Bloody hell! How'd you manage to catch all five of 'em?"

"Easily," she heard the wizard drawl out. He turned and looked at the five from the corner of his eye; a growing smirk crossing his face. "They trusted their professor."

Hermione couldn't process this. It wasn't him. It couldn't have been. Had someone tricked them by taking on the face of her professor? Was he under a charm, a curse? Her professor wouldn't do this. He just _wouldn't._

"Taking that position was the best thing you've ever done, Antonin," the second figure contributed. "It got you close to that old fool and now you've handed over Potter's friends on a silver platter with little to no effort." Both figures were stepping closer to them, eyes watching them with malicious glints.

"These three are cute little crumpets though. Perhaps we'll each be able to keep one. Which one would you want, Dolohov?" The first man spoke again, his eyes raking over Ginny with hunger. Not the warming kind that Hermione had experienced with her drunk professor. This was just cruel and disgusting.

Professor Dolohov didn't answer. He just kept watching his comrades as they stepped closer and closer to the five suspended students. One stopped next to the dark wizard while the other, the first man, continued until he was directly in front of Ginny.

"You might just end up being my favorite, little red…"

The second man chuckled slightly from beside their professor. "Now, now Macnair. I doubt the girl's even out of her training brassiere yet."

The man, the executioner Hermione remembered, licked his lips, "Plenty of time to learn though." He went to touch her friend and Hermione sent a panicked look to her professor and went to call out, but her voice caught in her throat as her mouth stayed open in shock. Professor Dolohov had just stunned the second man to the ground and took two long strides forward before grabbing Macnair by the back of his scraggly hair. He yanked the vile man away from Ginny and proceeded to throw his head straight into his connecting knee, knocking the man out cold.

He muttered what must have been the same spell from earlier because after a flash of white light the spell binding the four of them evaporated and Hermione was back in her professor's arms before her feet hit the ground.

"You could have bloody warned us," Ginny mumbled as she grabbed ahold of her brother again.

"Forgive me Miss Weasley, but I was never a Gryffindor."

They rushed out of the waiting room type area and reached the area that Hermione surmised was an apparation point. Professor Dolohov pulled out his wand and ushered them all to take hold of him.

"But, sir… How will you be able to take all of us?" She didn't know much about the process of disapparation, but she knew it took enough skill to just be able to transport yourself; let alone five extra students.

"It takes skill, Miss Granger. Which luckily I possess enough of. Now, hold your breath and do not let go of Mr. Weasley."

And with that, Hermione and the others did as he said and felt a tugging at their naval area before suddenly reappearing outside of Honeydukes in Hogsmeade.

"We'll take the tunnel up to the castle. It's closer to the infirmary and there will be less questions that way." No one questioned him, merely followed dutifully behind him.

As they walked through the dark and dingy tunnel, Hermione let her arms tighten around the man. Her head leaned to the side to rest against his shoulder and she breathed in the familiar scent that was only him. There was musk clinging to him from sweat most likely, and a strange but appealing aroma that must be from his magical energy. He had told her once that some individuals could have certain scents clinging to them after excessive magical usage.


	7. Year Five- Part Three

**Year Five – Part Three**

* * *

Antonin felt like heaving a sigh of relief and kissing the castle floors the second they passed through the portrait hole.

He had never felt so much stress in his entire life. Not even for himself. He felt more for the children he had to look after. And even then… he hadn't felt nearly as much pressure as he had singularly felt for Hermione. He swore that no one found themselves in danger as often as her and her two buffoonish friends.

Perhaps he should ask the Headmaster for a pay raise, seeing as it was practically a full-time occupation to make sure none of the Golden Trio are killed or at least seriously maimed. Or, _you know_ , infected with lycanthropy.

Yes, he was still annoyed by that.

But he felt a great weight release from his chest as he stepped back into the familiar feeling that the castle provided. He had his little witch in his arms, the other four were fine; well, one was unconscious, but he wasn't in any immediate danger. He was _fine._

Weasley was lucky he wasn't dead. If Antonin hadn't stunned Avery when he did, then the boy would have burnt from the inside out. One of the more specialized spells that Antonin had brought to the Death Eater repertoire. Though, only a few were powerful enough to produce it adequately. Unfortunately for Weasley, Avery had been one of those few.

But unlike the others, Antonin knew the counter curse for that particularly nasty hex and had administered it as soon as he reached the boy, saving his ungrateful life. He tried reminding himself that these were just children and his students to boot, but if he had to pick his least favorite out of the six, it was Weasley.

He also tried telling himself that it had nothing to do with the idiot boy's treatment of his girl but that wouldn't be _entirely_ truthful.

Sometimes he just wanted to curse the boy's shoelaces together and watch him trip… down several moving flights of stairs and into a suit of armor but everyone has those days.

Instead he had saved the redhead. That had to account for something, didn't it? Never mind the guilt he felt when he looked at the boy.

Just as he felt another episode of self-loathing begin to set into his mind, he felt the girl in his arms snuggle closer to him. Her arms were securely around his neck and he had a good hold on her so there was really no _need_ for her to attempt to get closer. Unless…

 _We'll stop that train of thought right there, Dolohov._

 _But what if she just wants to be close to me?_

Merlin he felt like a bloody schoolboy again. And not in the good way. He hadn't had much of a problem with women when he was in school. He didn't have much of a problem with them _now._ Many liked the tall, dark, and serious type. And none of them were looking to settle down. They just wanted an occasional dalliance, which he himself could admit to enjoying.

Vector had certainly been a worthy distraction. And she hadn't expected commitment or the sort from him. She had told him upfront that he was "delectable" and had wanted to "see if her equations were right about his sexual prowess." Of course it had been and so they had a few memorable nights together before moving on. Just the way Antonin preferred it.

He didn't think he deserved to settle down. Not with the guilt constantly eating away at him and the double life he now had to live. He wasn't a good man, wasn't _husband_ material. He was suited for physical and carnal pleasure but nothing more. He didn't do emotional connections.

Well, until he began letting a pushy Gryffindor girl insert herself into his life.

Had he ever been so close to a woman who wasn't family? He remembered a tentative friendship with Floriana Zabini. But after learning what had happened to her seven husbands, it was probably best that Antonin had never taken her up on her offer of marriage.

This girl in his arms that was trying so hard to wriggle closer to him had absolutely no idea how she had already managed to wriggle herself into his daily thoughts, nighttime imaginations, and into what he thought was a once decimated heart.

And he found himself less willing to give her up the closer she got.

Soon, she would cross a line that Antonin wouldn't let her come back from. He was still a man, not a bloody saint and he only had so much control.

So, he'd let her seek her comfort from his embrace, and let her feel safe with him. He could only hope that one day she would come to understand why she shouldn't do any of that. That, or cease being his student before so. Perhaps just indulging his lust driven desires could purge her from his mind and body.

 _He knew he wasn't kidding anyone but a man can dream._

As the group neared the infirmary, Antonin could faintly hear raised voices coming from inside the room. It sounded like the familiarly strict and tense tones of Professor McGonagall that he remembered from his own school days. Not that he was ever in much trouble, but he had been around his dorm mates for their fair share of chew outs. The other voice was mildly familiar and feminine but he couldn't immediately place the quieter tones.

"-are they, then?!"

"-sure, but Harry's safe-"

"-manage to _lose_ five children, is _beyond_ me!"

"-no idea…"

At that, Antonin threw open the door to the hospital wing and walked inside, barely registering the look of shock and surprise on the occupants faces. He led the children into the center of the room and with a flourish of his wand, situated the Weasley boy on a hospital bed before saying,

"Find a bed." When the three behind him didn't move, he growled out, "Now." At that, they jumped and scurried off to place themselves on one of the infirmary's white beds. Antonin walked to the closest cot to him and gently deposited the tiny Gryffindor in his arms into it, watching her leg to make sure she hadn't further injured it without his knowledge.

Confident that she just needed some professional care, he stepped back and turned to go find the girl a pain potion when he came face to face with the Head of Gryffindor House herself. Despite being over a foot taller than her, Antonin still couldn't help but shrink back from the woman he still called professor out of pure respect.

"Professor Dolohov, what…" The usually stern woman appeared at a loss as she looked from him to her student. When Antonin looked at the little Gryffindor from the corner of his, he saw her worried gaze was also going between him and the older witch.

"I…" The usually fairly eloquent man faltered as he returned his full attention to the gaping woman in front of him. "I found out… About the plot to lure Potter from the castle…" He heard a gasp come from behind his ex-professor but ignored it as he tentatively continued, "And I accepted the invitation to join them just before they left… Because I knew the boy would go."

"You went to save him…?" He barely heard the witch, but he nodded his head to her question.

"Yes."

"But… why? You could have jeopardized yourself. You could have been killed for that…" The older woman was staring at him with a combination of shock and confusion lacing her weathered features. Antonin's brows furrowed slightly at her statement though. Didn't she know the promise he had made to the Headmaster?

"I… am there professor. Isn't it my duty to protect them, Professor?" Antonin might have expected acceptance of his answer, or more confusion as to why he would even take that oath seriously, but he certainly wasn't expecting _… this._

The witch had physically sagged in relief with a wide smile crossing her normally terse lips, before she breathed out, "Oh my dear boy," and _hugged_ him.

He could count the number of women who willingly hugged him on one hand but he never foresaw Minerva McGonagall to _ever_ be one of them.

His face probably showed his surprise after the muffled giggles he could hear coming from his Gryffindor's cot began to show.

"Professor-" He began, trying to figure out just what had happened to make this particular witch show such affection with the likes of him. But he was cut off almost as soon as the word left his mouth.

"Minerva. You've more than earned the right to call me such." She pulled away from him, and he was left swaying slightly as he stared in disbelief at her. He had earned nothing. All he had done was go after Potter and ended up taking his five friends back to the school instead. He hadn't even saved them. Well… not _really._ It didn't feel like it to him.

"I don't understand…" At her questioning look, he explained, "I thought you would be disappointed that I had gone back…"

"Do you still believe that pureblood drivel?" At her immediate question, he snapped back to when he was a student and quickly answered,

"No, but-"

"Do you detest Muggleborns?"

"I never have-"

"Do you want to create a Muggle free or enslaved world?"

"Not any longer." That answer was final. He may have once agreed with the thought that Muggles were beneath him but now that he met and interacted with many who _come_ from Muggles… He didn't see the appeal.

"Then why do I need to be disappointed in you, Antonin Dolohov? You saved these five students from the same group you had once aligned yourself with. You went against the ideals you had been brought up with by creating your own. You risked your own life because, as you said it, you are their professor and have a duty as such to protect them."

When she put it that way… It did make more sense. He may have gone back to the Death Eaters, but he couldn't truly consider himself one of them anymore. Antonin had left that life fifteen years ago. He was still a dangerous man with a penchant for dark magic and occasional sadism, but he wasn't a bigoted psychopath that harmed just anyone. Especially not children.

Glancing down, he took in Hermione's beaming face. _Especially not her_. He never wanted to intentionally harm her. He felt like doing so would completely condemn him. Such an innocent creature… He shook those thoughts away before he did something stupid like try to compare her to that unicorn from his second year.

He didn't want to snog a celestial creature anytime soon.

 _Oh bloody hell_ … He shouldn't want to snog his own _student._ Ever.

Maybe he should just tell McGonagall about all the dirty, perverted thoughts he'd been having about her favorite cub. Maybe then she'd be disappointed.

But common sense and self-preservation prevailed, leaving him to merely respond with a quiet, "Thank you… Minerva." She nodded her head in approval at his acceptance before turning to go handle other matters. Presumably to find out where the Potter boy was and how she could let the Order know about the other children's safety.

Antonin wanted to make himself scarce. He knew most of the members of the Headmaster's little militia and had no interest to tangle himself in that web. Mostly because it would presumably end with his death. But… The desire to stay and take care of the little witch he had found himself entangled with was somehow stronger. So he gave her a pointed look as he began to walk away and she smiled in understanding; He'd be right back.

Walking across the infirmary floor, he saw Madam Pomfrey pouring blood replenishing potions down the Weasley boy's throat, one of her assistants was in the process of fixing Longbottom's nose, while another was checking out the other two girls. He exhaled deeply before turning his attention back to the task he had set for himself. Pain potions for Hermione.

But as he neared the storage room where he knew them to be, he met the cool black stare of the Potion's Master. Pausing, Antonin held eye contact with the man for several seconds, each seeming to scrutinize the other. He knew Snape could hold this knowledge of Antonin's betrayal over him, but it would still be worth it. His little witch was alive with nothing more than a broken ankle.

Instead of a sneer or a look of disgust though, he received a simple nod. Antonin narrowed his eyes slightly before doing the same, acknowledging… whatever that was. Perhaps he had been too brash to suspect the other wizard of being like every other Death Eater. Perhaps he too took his vows made to the Headmaster seriously.

Choosing not to dwell on it, Antonin continued to the opened storage room before a shorter figure nearly collided with him. Instinctually reaching out his hands to grab the person's shoulders, he was only mildly surprised to see his once student turned Auror, Nymphadora Tonks.

"Oh! Sorry professor. Wasn't watching where I was going," her smile was sheepish as she held onto the bottles piled in her hands. Antonin quirked an eyebrow before asking,

"When have you ever, Miss Tonks?" She seemed surprised by his answer but a crooked smile broke out on her face as she chuckled slightly.

"You got me there professor. Were you coming in here to get something for yourself?" Her gaze perused his figure and Antonin didn't know whether to be more worried that his ex-student _cared_ , or that he saw something akin to approval in her eyes.

"No, Miss Granger's ankle is broken. I was coming to get her a pain potion." Realizing that he still had his hands on the witch's shoulders, he let them fall slowly, to not let it seem that the contact had bothered him. He was use to intimidating others, not the other way around.

"Ouch. Well, I'll ah… just let you do that then."

"You're too kind," he dryly replied, causing an unladylike snort to come from the girl- no, woman in front of him. Her hair turned a brilliant shade of blue as she stepped out of the doorway and out of his way.

"You know professor; I always knew you had a sense of humor." He rolled his eyes before stepping into the closest like area, picking up the closest pain potion he could find before turning around to walk out; only to find the same witch still standing out there.

"I wasn't aware there was anymore titillating conversation to be had between us, Miss Tonks."

Her brow furrowed slightly, "You know you can call me just Tonks, right?" He tilted his head slightly before stepping past her, drawling back to her,

"As you wish… Just Tonks." Another snort erupted from the witch and Antonin wondered just what these women saw in him to think of him as this approachable.4

* * *

 _He hasn't left yet…_

Hermione couldn't help but stare at the man sitting in the uncomfortable hospital chair directly next to her bedside. He was leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees as he talked to her. They were only discussing the different theories involved with house elf magic. Nothing really worth staying for and yet the wizard hadn't left.

It had been almost half an hour, if Hermione had to chance a guess. And yet Professor Dolohov had only left her side once when he traveled across the infirmary to retrieve her a pain potion. Madam Pomfrey had already been by to fix and set her ankle and now she was just resting until the Mediwitch was certain she wasn't in any more trouble.

And throughout it all, her professor had stayed. He was under no obligation; Hermione knew that all too well… But he just continued to find something different for them to chat about. Nothing heavy or too personal, just light topics that Hermione had no trouble rambling about.

Perhaps he was trying to distract her from what had happened earlier in the evening. Maybe he was just trying to keep her company so she didn't drive herself into a hole with worry over what was happening with her friends. Though none of their lives were in danger and they had already heard from Tonks that Harry was with Dumbledore, Hermione still felt a linger of stress over the events that had transpired.

If Professor Dolohov hadn't been there… what would have happened to them? Would they be in some Death Eaters home? Would they be bleeding out on the Ministry's floor? Would they be dead?

Hermione must have let her thoughts show on her face, because she felt a warmth cover her right hand and looked up to find her professor's worried gaze.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" He even sounded concerned about her. Hermione felt an overwhelming burst of fondness for the man and smiled softly at him,

"Yes professor. I guess I just got lost in my thoughts for a moment."

He nodded knowingly, "You've been through a traumatic ordeal. It's typical for you to drift in and out. If you'd rather be alone and try to sleep…?" His question trailed off, but Hermione knew he was asking if he should leave or not.

She shook her head furiously, "No, sir. I'm grateful for the conversation and the company." She could see a faint smile hidden beneath his stubble as they began to talk again. Hermione couldn't stop the giddy feeling inside of her from expanding. It was moments like this where she wanted to wrap herself around the man and never let go.

Everything she learned about him only intrigued her and endeared him more to her. She knew he was a fairly quiet man but when she addressed a topic he felt strongly about, he could talk for hours about it. He really was a fantastic teacher, especially when he explained something she didn't fully comprehend. And if she watched him carefully, she could see how he actually was a bit more expressive than people probably realized.

The quirk of his lips was usually hidden beneath his thick jaw stubble, but if you looked at the right spot on his cheeks, you could see the imprint of his dimples. The lines around his eyes would crinkle when he was pleased. His eyebrows would furrow if he was deep in thought. The lines on his forehead would grow deeper if he was worried or nervous. His eyes would flash if angered.

Hermione thought of it as a unique sort of homework; Figure out what Professor Dolohov is feeling. So far she thought she was doing fairly well at it. It was easier with him sitting still so close to her. At his impressive height it was nearly impossible to clearly see what he's feeling when he towers over you. But here, Hermione could see the impossibly dark brown irises, the line of his strong jaw, the indents in his cheeks from his upturned lips, and the smell of him drifted pleasantly all around her.

It was so easy for her to lose track of everything else around her when he was near. His presence called out to her, like he demanded her attention whenever they share a space. And she can never keep her eyes off of him. Whether in concern or excitement or force of habit, her gaze would almost always find his.

A few more minutes past before her voice was lowered by the escalating sounds coming from outside of the infirmary. She sent a nervous look to her professor who narrowed his eyes before turning to watch the doors as they slammed open. The people that rushed in were completely friendly and familiar though; much to Hermione's relief.

The Weasley family went immediately to Ron and Ginny while Harry, Sirius, Professor Lupin, and Mad-Eye Moody walked to the center of the room.

"How in the devil did these kids get here?" Moody's gruff voice demanded. Professor McGonagall came out from Madam Pomfrey's office at that moment and quickly answered his question.

"A member of our staff secured them and brought them back to Hogwarts." Her voice sounded awfully tight to Hermione and then she realized that the Order would definitely question why Professor Dolohov had been at the Ministry. Her head whipped to look at the man in question but he just appeared to be calmly watching the others in the room. His arms still rested on his legs and only his head was slightly tilted in their direction. But his eyes were cautious and even held a bit of wariness.

"Professor…" She whispered, but he only shook his head slightly in response before going back to listening to the conversations happening around the two of them.

"A member of your staff? Wouldn't happen to be Snape or Dolohov now would it?" Professor McGonagall bristled at Moody's tone before snapping back,

"Yes, if you must know. _Professor_ Dolohov made certain that these students returned back to the castle safely."

The room went eerily silent as the standing occupants immediately shifted their stares in Hermione's direction. But none of them looked particularly interested in her, except maybe Harry.

"And just how did you know that the kids would be there, Dolohov?" Moody asked threateningly, his body turning to throw the brunt of his glare at her professor.

"I had prior knowledge of the events." She was slightly surprised that the wizard hadn't changed his position. He didn't look tense or defensive, merely… bored? Except Hermione could still see the same look in his eye. He was waiting for something.

"Prior knowledge, eh? Because you're still a bloody Death Eater, _right_?" Sirius' voice joined Moody's in the onslaught against the man next to her. She didn't like that they were beginning to gang up on him, but she knew that he must have plenty of experience dealing with this sort of problem and would stay out of it.

 _For now_.

"Because I know those who still are."

Sirius took a dangerous step forward and reached for his wand as he shouted, "Don't bloody kid yourself, Dolohov! You're a Death Eater and we all know it." Hermione felt a warm weight on her good leg and a familiar pulse of magic surround her. Looking down, she saw her professor's hand had reached out to grasp her. The look in his eyes didn't suggest comfort though. It was protection _._

"Let go of Hermione, you-!"

But the low tones of her professor's voice cut the furious man off, "I would prefer to have the disagreement of my loyalties _away_ from the already injured students, Black." His voice held a danger of its own, as he stared Sirius down.

"Put your wand away Padfoot," Hermione heard the quiet voice of her former professor say. "He's only put a barrier around Hermione in case you decided to hex him." So that's what he did… But, looking at the man, he didn't seem to have one around himself as well…

Was he just going to let Sirius attack him and only make sure that she didn't get hurt?

"Remus is right, Sirirus," her best friend added. "Professor Dolohov has always protected us. And even if he, you know… Is a Death Eater… I still believe that he saved them again tonight."

"Harry…" Sirius dropped his wand arm and slipped the piece of wood back into his pocket, but an incredulous look remained on his face as he starred at his godson. Hermione registered her professor's hand slowly leaving her leg as he leaned back in his chair.

"What do you mean he's always protected you Harry?" Lupin asked in confusion.

"Well, he's the one who saved Hermione and I from your wolf form. And he made sure that we were able to save you Sirius. He's the one who figured out the creature was most likely a basilisk and helped with the cure for those affected by it in our second year." The eyes returned to her professor but he sat silently under their scrutiny.

"Miss Granger figured out the creature was a basilisk," she heard her professor mutter unhappily. He clearly didn't like all of the attention he was quickly gathering.

"Harry's right. Ron could have died tonight if Professor Dolohov hadn't known the counter curse to whatever he was hit by." The Weasley's gave a surprised gasp at Ginny's statement and their wide eyes turned in her professor's direction.

"Mr. Weasley wouldn't have been injured with that curse if I hadn't created it and given the information to the Death Eaters," the man countered, his figure still eerily resembling a relaxed form. But Hermione could tell he was wound tight. But she'd also had enough.

"We all could have died tonight if Professor Dolohov hadn't been there," she exclaimed, her stubborn gaze meeting her professor's annoyed one. He probably wanted her to stay out of this, but she couldn't. She wouldn't let these people she respected try to tear down the man she trusted more than all of them.

"Don't exaggerate, Miss Granger. The Aurors weren't far behind you." Hermione wanted to scream at him. She wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him and yell until he understood that he was a good person. That he was capable of doing good. That he wasn't the monster he obviously thought he was.

"Do you think this indebts us to you, Dolohov?" Hermione had never heard Mr. Weasley's voice even closely resemble the dark tone it had just taken. Not even when she was twelve and heard him go against Lucius Malfoy.

"I do not." He looked away from her to meet the patriarch's leveled glare. "Nor did I expect gratitude, favor, or influence."

"Then why did you do it?" The unusually quiet voice of Mrs. Weasley asked. Her professor shifted slightly in his seat, but Hermione couldn't figure out why.

"Because it was the right thing _to_ do."

Apparently that answer wasn't quite good enough for Moody though, who had somehow managed to stay quiet through most of the discussion. Until now, that is.

"Like hell, Dolohov! We're just supposed to believe a lying snake like yourself? You've got some hidden agenda and I'm not waiting around to find out what it is," he pulled his wand out during his final declaration and pointed it straight at her professor's heart.

Time seemed to move in slow motion as she flung herself out of the bed and straight into the man next to her. She ended up with her back to his chest, sitting slightly awkward in his lap, with her hands thrown to the side, hoping to prevent any spells that might be thrown at him.

"Hermione…" She could audibly hear the confusion and frustration in his voice. "Get back on the bed."

"No!" She shouted, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. "They're treating you like some common criminal when you haven't even _done_ anything. And now they're going to just attack you and you were going to _let_ them!"

"I deserve it-" He started, but Hermione was tired of him thinking that he was a terrible person. He wasn't; Not to her at least.

"You don't! You've been nothing but kind to us. You've saved our lives and not just today! You're one of the best professors we have here at Hogwarts. You haven't done anything to deserve this treatment!"

"He's a Death Eater, girl. Now get away from him," Moody growled out. Hermione shook her head angrily.

"No! He isn't one of them anymore!"

"Anymore…" She could hear the man behind her breathe out. "I still was at one point, Miss Granger." She felt one of his arms snake around her waist and physically turn her as the other supported her underneath her knees. He easily lifted her petite figure before depositing her back onto the cot she had just vacated.

"Stay here," he said, gently pushing her shoulder as she attempted to sit back up, "And stop trying to cause more harm to yourself." His gaze warned her but she had to protect him. He had done so much for her; the least she could do was return the favor.

"Professor, please…" Her hand gripped the sleeve of his shirt and he couldn't pull himself out of her reach without being forceful. So he relented with a deep sigh, sitting back in the chair he had previously stood from.

"I don't want your protection," he muttered out loud enough for her to hear. But she smiled despite that and whispered back,

"I know. But you need it." He gave her a strange look before turning as the other's began to speak again.

"You aren't innocent, Dolohov," Mr. Weasley warned. "Just because you've somehow convinced everyone that you've reformed, it doesn't change anything."

"I never said that it did or that I was." Her professor just looked tired at this point. She still had a tight grip on his sleeve, afraid that if she let go someone would attack him. His body was turned slightly, his forearms resting across his knees, a frown on his face as he stared in the redhead's direction.

"You admit it then?" Moody grumbled out, curiosity crossing his weathered face for a moment.

"I am not innocent," her professor conceded. "I joined Voldemort's ranks the summer after I graduated from Hogwarts." Many in the room looked shock at his use of the Dark Lord's name. "I did terrible, unforgivable acts because it was expected of me. I know it doesn't excuse what I've done, but I left _before_ Voldemort's fall," he emphasized.

"I did not, nor have I ever believed in blood purity. I had refrained from committing acts of violence against those of the wizarding community. Most of my cruelty was experienced by Muggles. And I'm not excusing it," he added, seeing the look on several of the adults' faces. "I'm merely explaining how I came to leave it all."

"Refrained from attacking those in the wizarding world? What about Molly's brothers?! How can you say that-!"

"Because he did not attack the Prewett twins." Hermione gasped and looked up to see the Headmaster standing in the doorway to the infirmary.

"Albus-" Mr. Weasley started but was cut off by a raise of the older wizard's hand.

"Please, Arthur, Molly. You must understand that while it was Antonin who ultimately killed Fabian and Gideon, it was not because he wanted to. He made the choice to after seeing what had become of them." At everyone's questioning looks, the Headmaster continued,

"Death Eaters were raiding the empty home of Madeline Sherman as you remember and the Prewett brothers were the first to arrive. They were outnumbered two to eleven. Twelve, if you count Antonin who had been inspecting the woods around the home at the time. The Death Eaters took turns torturing them, ruining their minds, destroying their bodies." A grave hush had fallen over the room as everyone focused solely on Dumbledore.

"One curse in particular that was used, caused unimaginable pain which ultimately would result in a slow but torturous death. The young men were left like that. Antonin stayed behind, to cast the Dark Mark, he had told the others. But he ended up casting the Killing Curse on the twins instead. A mercy killing, in the end. For there is no counter curse to what had been placed on them. Even if there had been, their minds would have forever been ruined much like Frank and Alice's." Neville's face dropped at the mention of his parent's, as did a few others.

"Yes, Fabian and Gideon Prewett had been attacked in a vicious, bloodthirsty manner. And their death came to be by Antonin Dolohov. But he had not attacked them. He had not _caused_ their death."

Mrs. Weasley took a tentative step away from her son's bedside, her eyes never leaving the man next to her who, at some point, had dropped his head, hiding his face away. Her voice was shaky as she asked, "Is that… Is it true?"

"It was mercy, my mother told me…" Hermione had never heard her professor sound like this before. His voice had never been so thick before. "It never felt like mercy. It always felt like murder." Looking down, Hermione could see drops of water on her professor's arm. He was… crying… Mrs. Weasley seemed to notice it as well.

"You regret it…?"

"I don't regret killing them. They deserved better than a slow death at the hands of those bastards... But I regret being the one who did ultimately kill them. I never wanted to harm witches or wizards. The war wasn't supposed to be against them, but after Muggleborns began to 'disappear' and the Potter's were targeted… I knew I wanted no part in that. I didn't need any more wizarding blood spilt on my hands."

"You knew James and Lily had been targeted?" Lupin questioned.

Her professor nodded, "I was there when Pettigrew was Marked and Voldemort revealed the prophecy and his plan to the Inner Circle."

"And you didn't say anything?!" Sirius exclaimed, his hand going towards his wand once again. But her professor didn't have to answer.

"He told _me_. But by the time I had planned to act, it was too late. Lily and James were dead and Voldemort was gone." The Headmaster looked very forlorn in that moment, as though reliving a very painful memory. And perhaps it was. "I had tried convincing them to make me their Secret Keeper instead, but they had trusted Peter. I knew they wouldn't believe their friend had betrayed them though, and had tried to get to Peter, but I waited too long and paid for the consequences. Antonin holds no fault for my mistakes."

Hermione wanted comfort her professor. She wanted to situate herself back on his lap and curl into his chest and whisper soothing words to him until he felt better. Until this nightmare was over. Being forced to relive what must be the worst regrets of his life… It couldn't be easy. And she didn't want him to think that he was alone. _She_ was here for him.

At the sight of a figure moving closer to her area of the infirmary, Hermione looked up into Mrs. Weasley's teary face as she came to stand a foot away from Professor Dolohov. She just stared at him, and before she could say anything, her professor was already speaking.

"I know I couldn't save your brothers… And it will be a regret that I live with for the rest of my life. I don't deserve your forgiveness. Even if I saved your children, you owe me nothing. It doesn't negate the sorrow I brought to you and your family. And if you wish to take revenge, I wouldn't blame you. Nor would I stop you."

"Professor-!" She started, but was cut off by his head lifting and his bloodshot eyes meeting hers. He shook his head slightly, the loose hairs wafting through the air with the motion.

"I may have changed my ways, Miss Granger… But it will _never_ make up for what I have done." He stood at that declaration and in her shock, Hermione had released his sleeve, leaving him to walk away from her bed.

He waited patiently in front of Mrs. Weasley, his eyes meeting hers confidently but they were filled with regret and sadness. Hermione held her breathe as the smaller witch took a hesitant step forward, before throwing her arms around the man in one of her familiar embraces.

"I forgive you, Antonin Dolohov. I forgive you." Hermione couldn't see her professor's face, but could hear the strangled sound that came out of him.

"Why… Why would you…"

"Because Hermione was right… You _are_ a good man."


	8. Year Six - Part One

**Year Six – Part One – Summer Vacation**

* * *

It was good to be back in Grimmauld Place, even if Hermione missed the familiar atmosphere of Hogwarts.

She had just arrived that afternoon, being greeted immediately by a welcoming Sirius and Weasley family. Although only Mrs. Weasley, Ron, and Ginny were here at the moment. Harry would be coming at the end of the week, they told her. And she was glad. He hated it with the Dursley's.

As Ginny helped her get settled into her bedroom, a knock on the door interrupted their brief chat about the redhead's failed relationship with a Ravenclaw boy from last term. Tonks' bright pink hair illuminated the darkened room as she poked her head inside.

"You girl's busy?" Both shook their heads in the negative. A wide grin crossed the woman's face, "Brilliant. Everyone else is busy and I felt like chatting."

So, the three witch's left the vicinity of Hermione's room to roam around the complex, gossiping and trading stories on guy's they fancied at one point or another. Tonks apparently had quite the crush on their ex-professor Lupin last year while Ginny had been eyeing up Dean Thomas before break.

"What about you, Mione?" Her friend asked. "Any boy's caught your attention?"

She hummed noncommittally, "Not really. I suppose most of them are just too immature, you know?"

Tonks nodded her head in agreement with Hermione's statement, "I figured. You're too mature for your own good. You need someone older than you who'd be able to keep up with your thinking level."

 _Like Professor Dolohov…_ But Hermione wasn't about to say that out loud. She really wasn't able to even think about her crush on the older man half the time, let alone talk about it with someone else. Suffering in silence seemed like the way to go.

"You know who I'd like to properly inspect though?" Ginny said with a smirk. At the questioning looks from the other two, she promptly giggled and answered, "Professor Dolohov."

Hermione hoped her face wasn't as red as it felt.

"Oh, Merlin, I know what you mean. Age hasn't changed that man's looks. If anything, he's gotten hotter," Tonks added, pretending to fan herself with her hand as they walked up a set of stairs.

Ginny leaned forward, a mischievous look on her face, "Would you shag him if you could, Tonks?"

"In a heartbeat," the Metamorphmagus declared proudly. Hermione forced a smile to her face but she was internally stewing. The thought of her professor getting that close with anyone just left a bad taste in her mouth and a churning in her stomach that she didn't like.

It wasn't like she was in denial that he'd most likely had sexual partners in the past. She just didn't like the thought of it. Were they pretty? Did he ever desire anything more with them? Did he _love_ them? These were the thoughts that threatened to drive Hermione insane. So she tried changing topics.

"Tonks… Who else is staying in Grimmauld Place?" That seemed to do the trick as she immediately launched into who would be staying, who would come and go but never stay the night, and who all might spend a few nights here and there.

"Oh! And apparently Dolohov will be here for a few days. Dumbledore's orders." Hermione's ears perked up at the mention of the wizard. He'd be here? Overnight? Under the same roof as her in a more enclosed and accessible space?

"What for?" Ginny asked, but Tonks only shrugged her shoulders.

"No idea. But I for one can't wait to see th-aaaaaah…." Hermione watched Tonks' pink hair change to a darkened red that almost matched Ginny's now flaming red cheeks. Befuddled, the bushy haired girl turned from her spot to see what the two were looking at.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of a towering figure stepping out of bathroom at the end of the hall. It was obviously a man in loose hanging trousers, with a lean and fairly muscular physique. Dark hair covered most of the upper chest and with a trail leading down the man's navel area towards his… Um…

Shaking her thoughts away from that, Hermione went to look up to attempt to identify the half-naked wizard, following the well-toned arms and shoulders to a shadowed neck and strong jaw and…

 _Oh gods…_

Hermione met the bemused stare of her professor with a growing flush settling over what felt like her entire body. Even with his hair scattered in disarray from being towel dried, there was no mistaking him. And the worst part was that she couldn't look away. She had clearly been caught staring but it was like her eyes wouldn't cooperate. He was too mesmerizing.

She heard something like a 'hmph' and a chuckle combined as Professor Dolohov walked past them down the hallway and into what must be his room for the duration of his stay. _His back muscles looked delicious…_

 _What…_ Hermione blinked quickly and turned around as soon as the sound of a door shutting echoed through the hallway. Now wasn't the time to start drooling over the man. No matter how _good_ he looks.

"Damn… I knew he'd be sexy but seriously… If you don't sleep with him Tonks, then I most certainly will." Hermione wanted to plant her face into her hands.

 _Could this summer get any more uncomfortably?_

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening steadily avoiding that section of the house. She didn't know how she would react if she came face to face with the wizard after she had just blatantly ogled him. The worst part was that he hadn't seemed to _mind_ that she had been staring at him. Well… she hadn't been the _only_ one but she liked the think that her opinion meant more to him.

When she walked into the kitchen for dinner, her thoughts still consumed by images of the shirtless man, she almost missed Mrs. Weasley's question.

"Oh Hermione dear, could you go and tell Antonin that dinner is ready?" It took her several seconds to remember that the matronly witch was talking about her professor but even less time to decide that she didn't like others calling him by his first name before she smiled and nodded quickly, turning to rush back up the stairs.

She'd have to see him sooner rather than later anyways so she might as well do it on neutral terms.

Walking down the long hallway, she came to the door that she had previously watched the man walk into and after a brief bout of hesitation, raised her fist to soundly knock three times. Barely a heartbeat later she heard the familiar low tone of, "Come in."

Opening the door, she peered inside and found the man relaxing in a large armchair next to the bed, a book in one hand, his head propped up by the other. He was still wearing the same trousers from before, although he had thankfully added a white button-up. But Hermione could clearly see that the top two holes were undone and gave a peek of the hard chest she had seen earlier that day. Swallowing harshly, she watched as his eyes flicked up to meet hers, his brow raising in a questioning look.

"Dinners ready," she offered in a quiet voice. He nodded and closed the book he had been reading with a 'snap', before standing. He stretched slightly and Hermione found herself fascinated by the way his muscles moved underneath of the thin material of his shirt. She knew that most men had muscles, even Sirius was quite impressive now that he had gained back most of his weight, but for some reason she found her professor's to be more breathtaking than any other.

 _Who was she kidding? It was just because she had a crush on him._

Fighting to keep her eyes downcast and a blush off of her face, she didn't even realize that the wizard had moved until his form was directly in front of her. Her eyes traveled up the buttons of his shirt until she looked straight up into his expectant eyes.

"Something the matter?" He asked softly, his head tilting to the side as he spoke. How this man could go from being irresistible to adorable in a matter of seconds was beyond even the likes of Hermione's logic.

She shook her head slightly but the two maintained eye contact for several tense seconds. Her professor blinked and looked up past her before reverting back to her.

"Hermione…" Her insides fluttered at the sound of her name coming from his lips.

"Y-Yes?"

"You're standing in my doorway."

 _Oh._

"Right… Sorry." She could feel the warmth tinge her cheeks as she backed out of the way. He moved to stand in between the wooden frames, still heavily staring at her. She wanted to look back up but couldn't. Embarrassment kept her head down and eyes averted.

Finally, her professor moved and went to head down the hallway towards the staircase, but Hermione caught his voice asking, "Coming?" as he neared the end. Rediscovering her ability to walk, she drug her feet across the floor until she was directly behind him, following him wordlessly down the steps and into the kitchen.

She needed to stop making a fool of herself in front of him. If not for her own dignity, then to at least throw off any suspicions about her feelings for the man. No one needed to know that she had less than platonic feelings for him. Especially not Ron…

As she sat down in an empty chair, she reflected how at one point she had hoped that Ron would just man up and admit he liked her. She thought maybe he would have done so after she had gone to the Yule Ball with Viktor but he had left her in tears and she had found comfort in her professor instead. Maybe that was the moment her crush on Ron had waned and the feelings for Professor Dolohov appeared…

She looked up when Mrs. Weasley dropped a plate of food in front of her and, remembering her manners, graciously thanked her. When she went to grab her silverware, her fingers brushed against someone else's warm digits.

"Sorry. Those would be yours, wouldn't they?" Looking to her right, she finally registered that she had taken the seat next to her professor purely by coincidence.

 _Oh well_ , her subconscious replied in a sing-song voice.

After almost grabbing her silverware, he found his own and tucked into the meal he had been offered. It was moments like this where Hermione could see how he must have been raised. Small bites of food, dexterous movements, and he barely made a sound as he ate. She idly wondered whether his mother or father had taught him these precise manners. Or both.

She was so caught up in her inspection that she almost jumped when he looked down and caught her watching. He swallowed his food and blinked before asking, "Something on your mind, Miss Granger?"

She shook her head so quickly that she knew it must have come off as defensive. And of course he caught that, if the rise of his eyebrow were any indication. He gave her pointed look at her food before returning to his, leaving her to her own folly.

 _He's going to think I'm mental at this rate_ , she thought dejectedly.

The rest of the meal passed by without any more problems on her end, to which she thanked whichever god was listening. She might have had to spend the rest of the summer locked away in her room if she continued to embarrass herself.

After the table was cleared, most of the occupants were engaged in various conversations, ranging from work to Quidditch.

"Did you ever play when you were in school, professor?" Hermione could hear Ginny asking the man next to her. She turned to look at him as he poured himself a glass of Firewhiskey.

He didn't even look up as he answered with a short, "No."

"Too busy with his nose in a book to properly appreciate the sport," she could hear Sirius bark from down the table.

"Yes, thank Merlin for small mercies. Otherwise I might have ended up like you, Black. One Bludger to the head had you declaring your love to your Head of House for all the masses to hear," silence permeated the table until everyone broke out into laughter all at once.

Only Sirius could be heard trying to shout over the roar, "Who told you that?!"

Professor Dolohov took a sip from his glass before smirking over the top of it, "Please… I've worked at Hogwarts for years. The professors talk, especially about moments such as your brilliant one. I'm especially fond of the part where you addressed her as ' _kitten_.'" Hermione thought many of the individuals at the table would choke from the sheer intensity of their laughter. Sure, she was giggling as well, but not until she was red in the face like the Weasley twins.

"Pity he doesn't know another language," she heard her professor mutter down to her. She smiled up at him as he briefly returned it before lifting his glass back to his lips.

Sirius was still cursing at the end of the table, trying to redeem his pride no doubt. But Hermione was glad that the man seemed to be warming up to her professor. After hearing how he had saved his godson and had tried to save Lily and James Potter, Sirius had found new ground with the dark wizard. Pushing aside past prejudices, he had welcomed the man into his home with little qualm. And the two got along far better than she had ever seen between Sirius and Professor Snape.

She was glad that the others were finally coming around to the idea that he was a good man. Some still had their reservations and Moody still didn't like him, but most were either tolerant or downright pleasant to him now. Mrs. Weasley had taken to feeding him like he was another of her charges and the surprising thing was that her professor hadn't even minded.

Whether out of guilt or genuine acceptance, she couldn't tell. But it was lovely to see the two smile and exchange pleasantries after having such a difficult and regretful past.

It made her feel like she was doing good. She had taken this man out of the shadows and dark rumors and showed everyone that he wasn't evil or dangerous, just misunderstood. She giggled to herself at the image of her professor being a stray dog, perhaps a Black Russian Terrier or something huge and cuddly like that, before she spied something in her peripheral.

It was a glass. She looked up at the man offering it to her and at her confused expression, he chuckled, "You're allowed to drink it. You are seventeen after all."

"But that's yours…"

"And I'm offering. Try it, _malyutka._ " So she took the glass from his hands and after one last nervous glance in his direction, she tipped it back and took half a mouthful. It burned as it went down her throat and caused her to sputter slightly, but after the sensation went away, she actually felt a pleasant warmth spreading across her body; going from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

"Antonin Dolohov, you did not just give that girl Firewhiskey!" She could hear Mrs. Weasley shriek from across the room.

"Ah, how I missed the sound of a matriarch berating me," she heard the sarcastic voice next to her breathe out. She burst into a fit of giggles that he soon joined with deep chuckles of his own.

"Seriously? Aren't you supposed to be a professor, Dolohov?" The disbelief was evident in Sirius' voice if the surprised look on his face wasn't enough.

"I'm neither in a classroom setting nor in my teaching robes. I fail to see how I'm to be held accountable." The teenagers all broke down into fits of laughter at their professor's words as most of the adults merely rolled their eyes. Sirius just grinned mischievously.

Standing, her professor said, "But, I do think I will retire for the evening." He was met with several good nights and blinked in surprise before nodding slightly and walking back up the stairs.

"I think I'll go as well. Need more excitement if you know what I mean," Tonks issued with a wink in Ginny's direction. The redhead giggled as the metamorphmagus left the room as well.

"What was she on about?" One of the twins asked their sister.

"Oh, didn't you notice which direction she went?" Ginny answered cryptically. Hermione looked at the doorway for a moment before it hit her. Tonks had turned left, instead of right. She was headed up into the house instead of down the hallway to the exit. She wasn't one of the ones who usually stayed the night which meant…

"She's most likely planning on shagging Dolohov tonight."

* * *

Antonin had just returned to the sanctity of his room when a knock sounded at the door. He wanted to groan aloud. He just hoped it wasn't who he _wanted_ it to be. His raging erection wouldn't be solved in that case.

But he was mildly surprised to see Tonks standing outside of his door instead of the brown eyed, curly haired girl that had caused him so much grief over the past few hours.

First she sees him half naked and shows such blatant desire in her eyes that he _knows_ she couldn't have realized that she was doing it. So, he had walked away with the secure knowledge that she certainly did find him attractive.

Then, she comes to his room but continuously stares at him, probably remembering the way he looked shirtless and all he had wanted to do was remind her before imprinting the image of _her_ without a shirt into his own mind. More of a reason for him to get out of there.

But then she sat herself directly next to him at dinner and he lost what little composure he had gotten back. And the way she felt when she touched him… It caused chills to run up and down his spine before hitting him straight in his groin.

He had tried distracting himself. First by eating and then by trying to tease Black, but she had smiled that intoxicating smile of hers and he had wanted to drown. Even whiskey hadn't helped. If anything it had made him reckless. What was he thinking, offering her Firewhiskey? And from his own glass at that!

After she had initially choked on it, she soon settled and had looked so peaceful that he couldn't have regretted his decision. But he knew he had to get out of there soon after. She was causing too many reactions and he had felt himself steadily losing control.

At least it wasn't her at the door. He might have done something reprehensible.

Like shag her silly.

"Can I help you?" He asked the shorter witch politely. Although he had an idea of what she wanted from him. He had seen her reaction to his shirtless form in the hallway earlier that day as well.

"Actually, I was going to offer to help you… Can I come in?" Maybe it wasn't a good idea. But he was past caring. He didn't feel like taking care of his problem by himself tonight, especially not in such close quarters with the object of his infatuation.

He gestured for her to enter. Shutting the door behind her, he turned to see that the woman had already shed her robes and was standing in nothing but her bra and knickers in the center of his room. _10 points to Hufflepuff_ , his mind deadpanned as he took in the different lines and planes her body. She wasn't especially curvy, but she had some definite feminine wiles to her that Antonin could properly appreciate.

"I didn't take you as one for Gryffindor brashness," his traitorous mouth issued. What the bloody hell was he doing thinking about Gryffindors at a time like this? As if his erection wasn't bad enough. Now he just pictured Hermione standing in nothing but her knickers and that thought needed to cease before he expanded on it.

"I know what I want, sir," she smiled coyly. "And I intended to get it."

"Did you now?" His low voice questioned. "But, pray tell, what you would have done if I hadn't been interested?"

She sauntered forward and placed a hand on his chest, "Are you interested?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On what you would have done."

She gave him a throaty laugh that was no doubt meant to be seductive before answering, "I'm a metamorphmagus, Antonin. I can take the form of whatever appeals to you. So? What do you like?"

He only hesitated slightly, "Curves. Softer women are a weakness of mine." She immediately began to fill her body out until she resembled something he might approve of. "Shorter. I enjoy dominating." She giggled softly before shrinking several inches, the top of her head barely level with his shoulders.

He should have stopped there, but he was too excited, too carried away with the fantasy, "Long, curly brown hair. I never could appreciate blondes." Her pink hair darkened and tumbled down her back in loose waves before each strand curled slightly, giving her hair a bouncy look.

"Pouty lips and a dusting of freckles," part of his mind was screaming at him to stop before he went too far. But this was what he wanted. What kind of woman he wanted.

"And the eyes?" She asked, looking up at him with bright blue irises. He cupped her chin none too gently before dragging his hand lower to her neck. Her eyes closed at the sensation as he muttered out, "Perfect."

His hands delved lower and at the sound of her breathy voice calling out, "Antonin," he stroked her nipple through her bra before drawling,

"Call me Professor…"

* * *

 _She had slept with him…_

Hermione's mind was still reeling as she laid on top of the covers of her bed. She had disappeared upstairs with him, it didn't take a genius to figure out what had been going on. Ginny didn't particularly help either.

"I wonder if we go up to his room if we'd be able to hear anything?" Ginny asked her as they walked up the stairs to their respective rooms.

"Mm, nevermind. He probably put up silencing charms."

Hermione thought she was going to be sick. Had she slept with him? Had _he_ had slept with _her_? Ginny was wondering if she would ever have a shot one day. Hermione just wanted to scream.

 _He wouldn't even_ kiss _her but he'd sleep with Tonks?_

She felt anger coursing through her as well as disgust and betrayal. Though she had no reason or cause to feel any of it, she couldn't stop the feelings from welling up inside of her.

And now she was here, in her bed but unable to sleep. Would she ever be able to sleep again? All she could think of was her professor and Tonks in various intimate positions.

Before the images slowly morphed into Hermione herself.

She couldn't stop the train of thought that he might be attracted to her. After everything that had happened between them? It was the only possibility that Hermione could come up with in the heat of the moment. But it was enough of a reason for her to throw herself off of the bed and go sneaking through the hallways of Grimmauld Place in her pajamas.

She stopped outside his door and let every emotion she was feeling touch the surface. Anger, hurt, determination. Each different one gave her more courage to raise her fist and softly knock on the door. Silence followed and a nagging part of her kept telling her to walk away, that it was too late to be disturbing him.

That she was being dramatic.

But she didn't care. And she ceased all logic when the door slowly opened and she was facing a drowsy looking Professor Dolohov. He had clearly been asleep or near about. And he was standing there in just a pair of flannel pajama bottoms.

It was the afternoon all over again. She couldn't stop staring at his chest, marveling at how masculine he looked. It wasn't until a rough voice from above her sounded that she looked up and away from it.

"Granger… What the devil are you doing out here at this ungodly hour?" His usual smooth, low tones were still thick from sleep but that only made him more attractive in Hermione's eyes.

She found her courage to speak and declared, "I want to talk to you."

He sighed and ran a hand through his tousled hair. "Now?" He implored, most likely referring to the hour.

"Yes."

He stepped out of the doorway and muttered, "Then get in here." She walked past him and went to sit in the chair next to his bed, deciding that she wouldn't have been able to concentrate if she had willingly seated herself there. The chair was the safest option.

Well… Not being there at all was the safest option but Hermione had to do this.

He sat himself on the side of his bed, the mattress sinking slightly under his large frame as he looked expectantly at her, raising his hand in a gesture for her to get on with it.

"Why did you sleep with Tonks?"

Her professor's eyebrows raised in astonishment before he coughed slightly and asked, "Excuse me?"

"Why did you sleep with Tonks?" She repeated.

"I don't… How… That isn't any of your business, Granger." She watched an array of emotions flint across his usually composed face; disbelief, confusion, and then anger.

"I just want to know why," she demanded, not backing down from the frustrated look he was giving her.

"Surely the sexual escapades of adults don't need much explaining."

I just want to know why," she repeated.

He sputtered in indignation before hotly responding, "It's none of your concern if we did or didn't."

Hermione paused at that, "Did you?"

He put a hand over his face before asking, "Did we what?"

"Sleep together."

He didn't answer though.

"I thought we were past lying to one another," she said coldly, folding her arms across her chest in annoyance. He peered through his hand before dropping it to answer.

"I asked _you_ to never lie to _me._ It's not like you're good at it anyways. Gryffindors never are."

"So you'll never tell me the truth then? How am I to ever trust you if I don't know when you're being honest or not?"

He let out a shaky breath, "You can trust me."

"Will you tell me the truth then?" She sat up a bit straighter, hoping that if he saw her seriousness, he'd relent and just tell her what he was thinking. Possibly even what he was _feeling._

"It's not appropriate-" He started, before she cut him off.

"So you were lying."

"I… Yes, alright, yes. I was lying."

"So you didn't sleep with her?

He covered his face with both of his hands, groaning out, "Merlin _pchelka_ , just leave it alone."

"I just want an answer."

"You're my student. I shouldn't be talking to you about this anyways." He cut her off this time as she opened her mouth to speak, "And we won't speak on the matter anymore tonight."

"Fine…" She conceded. He looked visibly relieved that she was leaving the topic alone, but he also still looked tired. Which gave her an idea that may or may not get her in trouble. But she enjoyed breaking the rules every once in a while.

As he stood from his bed, she asked, "Could I stay here for the night?"

He paused at the foot of the bed before replying, "I'm surprised you even bothered to ask. Don't you normally get your way regardless?"

She put on an affronted look but knew he was right. There wasn't much he had ever denied her, whether it was his company, a hug, and now this. He had told her that they shouldn't kiss… But now that Hermione had this information, she wondered if she might be able to get him to relent on that as well.

But she was settling for this at the moment. He pulled back the covers of the left side of the bed and slid himself in as she did the same on the right side. Her heart was pounding harshly as she began to feel the warmth radiating off of his larger frame. She was really doing this. She was sharing a bed with him.

She snuggled closer to him and felt his arm shift to wrap around her. "Go to sleep, _daragaya_. I'll wake you when it's time to leave."

Smiling to herself, she pressed her face into his bare chest, inhaled the scent that was uniquely him and drifted off to sleep with a single thought:

 _It might be more than a crush…_

* * *

Waking up, Hermione realized almost immediately that she wasn't alone in the room. Thoughts from the middle of the night came flooding back to her and she almost jolted when a warm shot of air fluttered across her neck accompanied by the sound of a light snore.

She had asked Professor Dolohov if she could stay the night… And he, well, hadn't said _no_.

So, that's where she was, at some indeterminable time in the morning, practically cocooned in between his large body. She had fallen asleep with one of his arms wrapped around her but now they both were; one resting along her hip and lower back and the other hugging her shoulders with his hand splayed out in her mass of curls.

Her legs had insinuated themselves between his and her clothed chest was flush against his bare one. It was the most comfortable she had ever felt in her entire life. Being so intimately close to the man brought a bright smile to her face.

 _I get to see him at his most vulnerable,_ she thought _. I get to see the peaceful, youthful look on his sleeping face. I get to trade warmth with him and run my fingers through the course hairs on his chest._

She had shifted back slightly so that she could look up and admire the view she currently had. It wasn't often she got to see the wizard's face so close to hers and she wanted to take full advantage of the situation before she'd have to inevitably leave his room. It wouldn't do well for her to be caught in bed with her professor. It would be even worse for him though. Especially since everyone was just starting to get along with him.

But she wasn't going to waste this opportunity. Raising the hand that had previously been clutching his chest, she lightly traced across the man's cheek, down to his recently shaved jaw. _He must have done that yesterday when he was in the shower_ , she thought idly.

The man grew facial hair quickly though, and already he had a five o'clock shadow covering most of his jaw. Hermione loved it though. It was purely him and she had enjoyed the feeling of it every time she had been able to experience it.

Moving her fingers across his jaw, she refocused her attention on his lips. They weren't exactly pouty, but she thought that if he put a conscious effort into it, he could readily achieve the look. It was also much easier to see them without a lot of facial hair surrounding them. They were soft to the touch and she could practically feel the electricity coming off of them as she traced her index finger over them.

She continued with her ministrations, so consumed by the moment and her chance to do this that she hadn't realized that the soft snores had ceased and that two, half lidded brown orbs were watching her every moment.

And when she did, it scared her half to death.

"Oh!" Her hands retracted from his jaw and she pulled them tightly against her own chest. "Sorry… I thought you were still asleep."

He blinked once before a small smile appeared on his face, and when he spoke, his voice was reminiscent of when she had woken him up in the middle of the night, "I know. But it was… interesting to watch you. You were so focused that I was half afraid to stop you."

"You liked watching me touch you?" She didn't know where in Merlin's name that question came from but the suggestiveness didn't go unnoticed by either of them. At least her professor gave a quiet chuckle instead of trying to chastise her. Although he didn't answer her question.

Instead, he shifted over onto his back, unwinding his arm from around her shoulder but keeping the one loose around her waist. She wanted to argue over the lack of contact but knew that it would be pointless. He was awake now and would begin attempting to redraw a line between them. Part of Hermione worried that this would always be their routine. Cross the line, go back over it, redraw it, and then cross it again.

"Do I have to go now?" Hermione asked quietly, tilting her head up slightly to look over top of his shoulder to see his face. He was staring sleepily at the ceiling of the room as he answered,

"Not this very second. But soon, yes." Hermione hid her grin from him as she snuggled back into his side. He didn't comment as she did so and it made her confidence soar.

 _I bet he would never let Tonks or anyone else do this_ , she thought smugly.

As they laid there, the silence was comfortable, but Hermione felt a growing curiosity in the back of her always active mind. She wanted to know more about the man she was curled up against and now seemed to be the ideal time to ask then. Especially since he was still in the process of waking up. Maybe he would say more if he didn't really take the time to think about it.

"Professor?" She asked after a brief debate with herself.

"Yes?" Why did his voice have to sound so… husky in the morning? Do all guys sound so… rustic or is it just him?

"Do you think I could ask you some questions? Nothing overly intrusive but slightly personal?" She could hear her own heartbeat as the silence flowed around them until she caught the low tones of a "Go ahead."

Ignoring the ecstatic feeling inside of her, she immediately asked, "How old are you?"

"40."

Thinking the number over in her mind, she decided that he wasn't too old. Especially not by wizarding standards. Not when the Headmaster was over 100.

"When's your birthday?"

"26th of October." Making a mental note of that, she paused for a second before asking her next question.

"What would you be doing if you weren't teaching?"

It took him a few seconds to answer that, but he eventually did. "My seventh year I was offered a job at Gringotts as a cursebreaker and had several offers from the Ministry to work in various departments. I'd most likely be doing _something_ with Charms."

"Was that your favorite subject in school?"

"It was. And I was quite good at it. Still am, though I don't really use it practically anymore. Plenty of theory though."

"You create your own spells?" It was fascinating to think about. Creating something that could be useful to the rest of the wizarding world.

"Yes. I started my fifth year with minor adjustments to other spells. By my seventh year I had created my very own originals, such as the Lightened Load charm I taught you your first year."

Hermione blushed at the memory. It was one of her first fond memories of the man and she cherished it. "I still use it; you know? It comes in handy when exams roll around."

"I thought it might," he replied with a short breath of laughter. "Seeing a tiny eleven-year-old trying to cart around tomes almost bigger than they were was amusing at first and then just concerning. I wondered a few times how you hadn't managed to permanently damage your back."

"Practice," she said softly. "And then your charm."

"I'm glad it could be useful to you."

She looked up at the affectionate inflection to his words and saw him staring at her out of the corner of his eye. Meeting his gaze, they just observed one another until Hermione tried leaning forward to brush her lips against his. She estimated she got a breath away before his hand gently nudged her back down.

"Why…?" Her voice asked pitifully. She just wanted to be close to him, couldn't he see that?

"Just…" He started, before sighing heavily. "Just not now, Hermione... I'm your professor and you're my student. It isn't right for our… relationship to be anything more than what it already is."

"But-" She wanted to argue. She wanted to tell him he was being ridiculous. But a part of her also knew that he was right. She may be old enough to make her own decisions, but it didn't change the fact that their roles were clearly defined for them already. He was just making sure that he played his correctly.

"Will you wait for me?" She settled with asking instead.

He sat up in the bed and looked down at her, a blank expression on his face. Hermione's heart dropped when he only responded with, "I think it's time you go."

Sitting up next to him, she tried to grab onto him but he was already out of the bed and walking towards his closet. "Please… Just answer my question."

He didn't turn around to look at her, but he still answered, "It's not a matter of me waiting, Miss Granger. You would be the one waiting and I… I can't ask you to do that. It would be better if you moved on."

"But l-… I care about you, sir… Doesn't that mean anything?" She felt her eyes begin to water as she almost told him that she loved him, and choked on a sob when he turned around and gave her the saddest smile she had ever seen.

"It means everything to me, _moy svet."_ He shook his head slightly as he continued, "But it isn't fair. Not to you and not to me. Place your affections with someone more deserving, someone who is able to reciprocate. Don't waste it on the likes of me."

She wanted to tell him he was wrong. That he deserved everything she would give him. But she wouldn't win the argument. Not now at least. Not when they still had these predefined roles to play. So she went with feigned acceptance.

"I understand…" It was a lie, but he seemed so pleased to know that she agreed with him that he hadn't noticed. It was a depressing thought, but Hermione didn't want to push him. He was a conflicted man who would need time. And she would wait, despite what he said.

* * *

Normally being back at Hogwarts would have made Hermione the happiest person in the world. But at the moment, she wasn't quite feeling the typical excitement that her fellow students were.

After her subsequent sleepover in Professor Dolohov's room at Grimmauld Place, their interactions didn't vary. He was still kind to her and they had still chatted from time to time, but a tension seemingly hung over top of the two of them. One that neither of them would ever admit or acknowledge.

Hermione wasn't exactly deterred in her feelings, but with no way to expand on them… She didn't know what she was going to do. If only he would budge, just an inch! But he wouldn't. Not while she was his sixth year student. And unfortunately… She just had to accept that fact.

But it didn't mean she wouldn't still try.

He hadn't told her she _couldn't_ , after all.

Besides, she now had even more of an incentive to stay around the man. She knew he had been in the ancestral home because of Dumbledore, but she had never figured out what it was. And as soon as Harry arrived six days after she did, their professor had taken him aside and the two had spoken for almost an hour on their own before the older wizard left the house completely.

Harry hadn't told them anything that had been discussed and her professor was gone; most likely returned to Hogwarts for the rest of the summer. But the secrecy left much to be desired. What was so important that it had to stay between the three of them?

She was determined to find out. She wasn't a child anymore; a legal adult in the wizarding world and only a few weeks away from being eighteen and eligible to join the Order if she wanted to. And someone would eventually slip up. Most likely it would be Harry. Her professor was still a Slytherin and would be too controlled to make that sort of mistake.

Even with her.

So, she resigned herself to finding out what was happening through Harry and using her interactions with her professor for purely selfish reasons. Especially now… After what she had discovered during her train ride back to Hogwarts.

She had been sitting in her own compartment, alone, and thinking. About him, about the coming war, about everything really. Recently, when she felt herself getting too despondent, she liked to summon her Patronus. The playful otter coupled with the happy feelings she had to bring up to conjure it never failed to lighten her mood.

Except on this day, it only served to confuse and concern her.

She had thought of her newest happy memory; the image of her sidled up next to Professor Dolohov, the feeling of his warmth, the sound of his amusement, the affection that would sometimes radiate off of him. With a cry, she had uttered " _Expecto Patronum_!"

Almost immediately she had known that something was wrong. Her otter had never been that… huge. It also didn't have pointed ears, a long tail, or stripes.

She was looking at a bloody _tiger._

Granted, it was a beautiful image. The slinking body was majestic as it prowled around her room, its tail swishing behind it in a carefree motion. She was mesmerized by it, at first. Almost like how she would get enraptured by… _Professor Dolohov…_

Hermione's brain began to whirl; the size of the animal combined with what she already suspected meant that it had to be a Siberian tiger, native to Eastern Russia. Solitary creatures with unimaginable strength and a beauty that all can appreciate but completely and utterly dangerous.

Her next thought was what this had to mean. A patronus can only change in instances of overwhelming emotion, so did that mean that her feelings for her professor changed her patronus' corporeal form to resemble what his must look like? She didn't even know if his patronus took the form of a tiger. He had once admitted that he could cast the charm, but she had never seen him do it or asked about the form it took. It could be something completely different but then… that wouldn't make any sense.

It was all to coincidental for her. And she planned to ask him about it the first moment she got him alone. Just ask about the patronus, and leave out any details about hers changing. That wouldn't be lying, just… omitting. He wouldn't have any cause to question that.

With a determined look on her face, Hermione made the trek back into the familiar castle and walked into the Great Hall with a solid plan to confront her professor later this week after classes had started. Perhaps she was reading about the charm in a book and wanted his opinion on it. Or maybe she was worried it would be on their N.E. and needed to know more about it from someone who knew Charms. Whatever she went with, both would be good excuses.

Pleased with her new tactic, she sat down at the table for the feast to begin but noticed that Harry was nowhere to be seen. She hadn't been able to see him on the train when he had been invited to join their new Potion's professor in his compartment but… Ginny had been with him.

"Ginny," she got the redhead's attention and quietly asked, "Where's Harry?"

"He went further onto the train after we split up from Slughorn's meeting. I thought he went to find you and Ron in the prefect's compartment," the pretty girl's slim brows rose slightly as she realized that her friend had no idea where the boy was either.

Turning to her left, she found Ron eating as though nothing was wrong, "Ronald!" She hissed, instantly getting his attention.

"Wuzzup?"

"Where's Harry?" He looked around for a moment before turning to look back at Hermione. "I thought he was with you."

" _I_ was with you until you kicked me out of the bloody compartment. I went to sit with Dean and Seamus after that."

"Oh…" Hermione felt a bit of panic beginning to settle in her gut. Where was her other best friend? He had the tendency to get in trouble, especially on his own. Godric knew where he was now…

"Hey, Mione," she had never heard Ron take that tone of voice before… that soft tenor sound was actually quite lovely. As did his warm hand in between her tense shoulder blades. "It'll be okay. If he isn't back before the feast is over, we'll go find McGonagall or Dumbledore."

Since when did tactless Ronald Weasley know exactly what to say to her? Hermione couldn't help but stare at him in bewilderment. It was true that both of her boys had sprouted over the summer and now looked more closely to men than boys but it was hard to distinguish that when they were still childish and immature. Although now… now she was seeing Ron in this completely different light.

Her heart actually fluttered a bit when he smiled so unguardedly at her. It was completely different from the tentative smiles she would receive from her professor. And though she might not have had a great reaction to Ron that she normally did with Professor Dolohov… maybe the man was right. Maybe she should refocus her attention on someone available to her at the moment. And, who knows, if it doesn't work out with Ron, then she can always go back to the person she truly wanted.

Luckily her other best friend walked into the Great Hall shortly after that, albeit covered in blood and spinning some wild tale of Draco Malfoy being a Death Eater. It just didn't seem possible to Hermione but, to be on the safe side, she made a mental note to ask her professor about that as well when she decided to go to his office.

She had a feeling it was going to be another one of _those_ years.

It was Friday evening before Hermione felt it was time to go and talk to her professor. He'd been polite during her class time and so she figured that he wouldn't have a problem with her visiting him during office hours. Plus, it was slightly academic. At least for her personal knowledge.

Setting inside his classroom, she made her way to his already opened door and paused before knocking lightly, not wanting to be rude.

"Come in, Miss Granger."

Befuddled, she walked inside and saw him sitting behind his desk, writing notes on the edges of a rather large tome. His head was still bent over but he answered her unasked question with a cryptic, "No one else knocks when the door is opened."

She smiled sheepishly as she crossed the room to sit at the chair facing his desk. She looked around the office as he finished up what he was writing. She missed the feel of the room; cozy, comfortable, and purely her professor's. She wondered if his private quarters were much the same before she realized that she probably shouldn't be thinking about that at all.

As she shook those thoughts from her mind, the man in front of her placed his quill down and closed the book he had been steadily annotating, giving her his full attention. It was one of the remarkable things about the man. When she talked, he listened with the upmost respect for whatever it was she was saying.

"I came with a legitimate theory question, I promise. But I wanted to ask you about something first." He gave her an expectant look before she just went right out and asked, "Has Draco Malfoy taken the Dark Mark?"

Her professor didn't show any surprise with her question, but the response wasn't what she expected at all. "I wouldn't know. The few times I've gone before Voldemort were all private. I haven't attended an Inner Circle meeting since the night they planned the attack at the Department of Mysteries."

"No one's said anything to you about it? You really don't know?"

He shook his head, "Nothing. Though, it wouldn't surprise me if he had. Lucius was a fervent supporter of the Dark Lord in his youth. Perhaps his son would have the same ideals."

The way he worded the sentence caused Hermione to pause. "Sir… you said Malfoy _was_ a supporter… Is he no longer?"

The man merely shrugged his shoulders, "I haven't spoken to him in depth. But he did seem very… uncomfortable about the ordeal he had been through as of late the last time I saw him. He had just gotten out of Azkaban at the time."

"It's where he deserved to be," Hermione responded hotly. The aristocrat had risked all of their lives that night. Between him, Harry, and Voldemort, she blamed all three.

"Is it?" Her professor asked seriously. "I've been to Azkaban, Miss Granger. I've been a prisoner before. Not very long, mind you, a few weeks at the most. But it felt like years." He looked off to the side of his room as though he were remembering a particularly harsh memory. "And it's nothing to take lightly."

"Why were you there, professor?" Her eyes had gone wide at his admission. She had never known, never even thought for a moment that he could have been in such a place.

"Suspected Death Eater activity. I was there until my trial, but by that time, Voldemort had already corrupted the Ministry and I was found innocent."

"That's why you didn't like the Dementors being around the school… Because you had been around them before." He nodded his head at her statement.

"I always suspected that if my boggart took a form, it would be a Dementor. A few days around them and I feared for my sanity."

"I didn't like them either… Something that can take your happiness and soul so easily shouldn't be trusted." He chuckled slightly at her words.

"True, but they do make good guards for the unredeemable scum of the earth."

Hermione paused for a moment before tentatively asking, "You don't think of yourself like that anymore, do you sir?"

She watched the man's eyebrows raise in shock before an affectionate smile crossed his face, "No Miss Granger… I think you've successfully made me realize that I do have the capacity to be more than just a monster."

Her smile was as bright as the candle on his desk as she beamed back at him. That was all she wanted, what she craved. He deserved to see himself as something more than an inhuman beast. He had feelings, he had regret and guilt, and he cared. No true monster could ever attest to any of that.

"Now, before the two of us end up getting too emotional, where is that theory question you promised me?" She giggled at the teasing lilt to his tone as she asked,

"I was wondering about the difference between a corporeal and non-corporeal patronus. There has to be a theory behind that, doesn't there?"

He seemed to mull her question around in his mind for a bit before answering, "Usually the difference is a person's emotional state. Which is why the caster must be thinking of the happiest thoughts they can muster. A patronus charm could still be enacted under duress but it wouldn't be quite as powerful and most likely non-corporeal."

"And a corporeal patronus takes the shape of an animal closely related or similar to a witch or wizard?"

"Unless there is a deep connection to another," he added softly. "Patronus charms have the ability to change if the caster's emotions react highly enough to someone else. Such as Auror Tonks."

"Tonks?" Hermione questioned. What did her professor know about that?

"Her patronus had previously been a jack rabbit," he explained. "Until she fell in love. Then it changed to a wolf."

Hermione blinked in surprise. A wolf. That could only mean… "Professor Lupin?"

"Precisely. She's been drooling over the man for months but he's been too stubborn to acknowledge it."

"So then why did you sleep with Tonks if you knew she was in love with Remus?" Hermione felt a spark of annoyance at the man. But she tampered it down until he gave her an explanation.

She saw him sigh deeply before resting his chin in one hand, "Do you really want the truth?" When she nodded fervently, he continued, "I didn't sleep with her."

"What?"

"I didn't sleep with her," he repeated. "I had… planned to. But knowing what I knew, I couldn't bring myself to do it."

"So, you didn't sleep with her just because you knew she was in love with Remus?" Hermione asked carefully.

"More or less," he responded with a shrug of his shoulders.

Hermione felt the itch to tell the man that she knew there was more to it than that but restrained herself. _Time, he just needed time_ , she told herself. _And she had promised to give him that._

"What's your patronus, professor?"

He raised a questioning brow and she elaborated, "You told me third year when Harry and I went back in time to save Sirius. But you never said what shape it took."

"A Siberian tiger," he conceded. "Fitting, truly. I too have the most innate urges to kill bothersome creatures on the occasion." Hermione smiled sweetly at his grumbling. He tried to make himself look big and bad but he was just a softie underneath of his hard exterior.

"How long have you been able to cast the charm?"

"Since I was a sixth year. It was quite difficult for me to master and my corporeal form didn't appear until years later."

Hermione nodded her head in understand. "I had a bit of trouble with it as well when Harry was teaching it to us last year."

"Did it take a form?" She looked up into curious eyes as she nodded slowly.

"An otter."

The shadow of a smile appeared on his lips as he merely replied, "Interesting. But I can see it."

Hermione put on an annoyed expression, "If you try saying what Ron did and that I squeak at everyone too often…"

The man chuckled deeply before shaking his head in disbelief, "As much as I hate to agree with Mr. Weasley, I'm afraid that is exactly what I was thinking."

"That's awful, professor," she chastised, but she also couldn't keep the grin off of her face. She missed this. Just being able to tease each other and talk without having to think about it. Without having to analyze everything said before it even is.

"Ah, sorry _moy svet_. But I can't help that it's true."

"Will you ever tell me what you're calling me?" She blurted out suddenly. "Those Russian words. Will you tell me one day?"

He held her gaze levelly before his eyes dropped, "Perhaps," was all he said before he reopened the book atop his desk.

It was her cue to leave.

She wanted to curse herself for bringing it up. They had been talking so easily, he had been opening up to her and she had gone and ruined it with her big mouth. But she just couldn't help but wonder what it was that he was constantly calling her. He made them sound like endearments, but she couldn't tell.

She gave a hasty goodbye as she walked towards the exit of his office and then classroom. Her mind was working to figure out the exceptionally tough question. Sometimes when he said those Russian words, he made it sound almost like he was saying some sort of endearment. Maybe that's what it is?

She really wished she had a book for learning Russian.

* * *

Antonin looked up from his book to stare at the spot that had previously been occupied by the witch of his fantasies. He thought he could handle being close to her while still keeping the professional distance expected of him, but… She just made it harder and harder.

The smiles, the giggles, the bright, loving look in her eye. He wanted that more than anything but he couldn't take it. Especially not after his conversation with Dumbledore last term.

The man had looked straight through Antonin's excuse of going to the Ministry to save the Potter boy. He had gone because he knew Hermione Granger would follow the idiot boy wherever. And the Headmaster knew that.

But he hadn't shamed the younger wizard. He hadn't told him he was disappointed or angry or anything of the sort. He had just told him to wait. To be patient. To wait until she had experienced life to the fullest.

Antonin honestly thought that the wizened old man had been trying to discreetly discourage his fixation on the girl. But it might have just been his engrained, Slytherin sense of paranoia and distrust that made him believe that.

He knew that Hermione hadn't had a true "relationship" beyond Viktor Krum her fourth year, and maybe that had something to do with her inexperience that Dumbledore had gone on and on about. But could Antonin honestly sit back and watch her dally around with boys her own age? Could he see her sharing those bright smiles with someone who wasn't him?

He had decided to try. After he had one last night alone with her in an intimate setting, he had rebuilt their walls and sent her on her way with the intention for her to live her life. Have silly relationships, kiss a boy just because, all the things that most students did even when he was a teenager.

All that was left was retaining the hope that after she had had her fill of what others could possibly offer her, she would return to him. He leaned back in his desk chair and pointed his wand into the middle of the room. Pulling the thought of warm hands running over his face and the deep scent of vanilla and strawberries, he cast his patronus.

Antonin watched with complete despondency as a playful otter swam across his darkened office.


	9. Year Six - Part Two

**Year Six – Part Two**

* * *

What was wrong with her?

Was she really so unattractive and undesirable that Ron would rather relish in the attentions of Lavender sodding Brown than the girl who he had allegedly held a flame for her since they were fourteen?

She should have known better than to listen to the twins. Even if they were right, it sure didn't look like it to her. She wasn't the one on the dais at the moment, lip locked with the boy she had _thought_ had started to mature and become a man. No, that honor went to her ditzy, average intelligence, but undeniably attractive housemate.

Hermione wanted to sink into the floorboards and never return. She had thought that she had made progress with her burgeoning relationship with Ron. They were talking much more often and even though the conversations usually consisted of uninteresting Quidditch talk, she forced herself because that was something her friend preferred to talk about. She even tried to take an interest in the ruddy game for him!

She went to the Gryffindor's try-outs because it was Harry's first time as Captain but also because she had told Ron that it was to cheer him on. Most of the other's thought that the other boy, the one who kept obnoxiously staring at her, would get the position of Keeper. But _oh no_ , Hermione even interfered a bit, just so Ron could achieve the position he wanted. It would make him happy, she had told herself. And if he was happy, then they could be happy together.

For a while, it had worked. Ron had showered her with attention and brief glimpses of affection in his own shy way. Fred and George had noticed and shared with her the tidbit of Ron having fancied her since their fourth year. Hermione had been elated! This is what she had wanted. She wanted to try a relationship with someone who could properly give her one.

But just as the feelings of excitement and the possibility of a casual relationship began to set in, Gryffindor won their first match of the season. And here they were now. Celebrating in their common room. The noise levels were probably deafening but Hermione felt as though she was moving through a tunnel as she continued to stare at Ron and Lavender's passionate embrace.

 _It should have been her._

It should have been her instead of Lavender next to Ron. It should have been her instead of Vector at the dance. It should have been her instead of Tonks in his room. _Why_ was it never her?

What was so wrong with her?

She only ever felt like a grey mouse in comparison to these beautiful, exciting, bubbly women. Was that her problem? She was too plain, too bookish, too frigid? Was that why no one was interested in her?

Well, Viktor had seen something. And obviously Professor Dolohov liked something about her… She just wished he would act on it. Consequences be damned! But then… her insecurities began to bubble up as she wondered if he was just using the excuse that he was her professor and that she needed to be with someone else for the time being as a way to politely push her affections off of himself…

It sounded like something a Slytherin would do… But was he capable of doing such a thing?

She didn't really know. It made sense to her. If she didn't like someone who liked her, she would try to get them together with someone else. Maybe that really was what he was doing… He could still care about her, he just doesn't want her romantic notions. It saddened her though. Rejection or not, it still felt like it to her.

Had he changed his mind? Did he decide she wasn't good enough for him like Ron certainly had? No… She shook those thoughts away as she turned and left her common room. Professor Dolohov wasn't that transparent. And he was too kind.

Could she just go ask him?

That thought was shot down as well. No, he hadn't wanted to talk to her about it over the summer, what made her think he would feel any different about it now? Never mind that she was almost eighteen, he would still treat her like a child in that aspect. She didn't know enough about those types of feelings apparently. Did he though?

Tears were falling down Hermione's cheeks before she could even stop and comprehend them. Stopping in an empty stairwell, she slumped to the ground and wiped the water from her eyes with the back of her sweater sleeve. She pulled out her wand and concentrated on conjuring her newest project.

" _Avis_." Multiple, tiny yellow birds appeared out of thin air and started humming around the otherwise empty space. She cracked a small smile and her ability to produce them even in her delicate emotional state. She was still the brightest witch of her age for a reason.

As she watched the pretty birds, she thought back to those grand moments when she thought that maybe, just maybe, Ron could be someone more than just a friend to her. The subtle flirting, the weeks of conversation, the occasional brush of their fingers… Wasn't that supposed to be how it started?

Was it her fault that it didn't work out with Ron? Was it because her heart wasn't fully set on that relationship? She knew it was a possibility. She had too many confusing feelings for her professor. The man that could go from hot to cold in a matter of seconds. The man who fluttered her heart and sparked an inane warmth inside of her that she could only ever associate with him and him only. No other person in this world had made her feel the way he does. Was it even possible that someone could?

Was this why he wanted her to experience other relationships? Was she supposed to realize that someone else could make her feel the same way that he did or that no one else could? Merlin she wished she could just _ask_ him if he wanted her or not. At least then she wouldn't be able to speculate if he was actually a good person or not.

She feels herself begin to panic, just like how she had broken down in the hallway last year. But this time there was no Professor Dolohov around the corner to find her and to ease her worries. He wasn't there to comfort her. But just as she thinks this, she hears footsteps behind her and she hopes, she prays, that it's him. That he can somehow sense her internal conflict and has come to soothe her soul with his warm and kind presence.

But it isn't him. It's Harry. He came to find her because he knew she must have been upset about the recent development between Ron and Lavender. _He would know_ , she thinks. He's going through the same thing with Ginny and Dean. But… he wouldn't understand the other half of Hermione's confliction. The part that's consumed her for months, maybe even years, now.

They just sit together, watching Hermione's conjured birds. She liked the silence, and she appreciated the company. It made her feel a little less lonely, if only for a moment.

However, the moment didn't last long. _They_ came in; Ron and Lavender. Kissing, touching, the playful looks in their eyes sickened her. Why can't they just let her wallow in sadness alone? Why does the universe keep reminding her that she can't win this battle?

Ron looked angry for a moment, seeing Harry and Hermione together and she just thought, He has _no_ right. Lavender said something but Hermione didn't hear it. She's was too busy glaring at Ron and even as the tears fell down her cheeks, she raised her wand towards the couple,

 _"Oppugno."_

The jinxed birds turned into feathered missiles and headed straight for Ron's figure. He managed to jump out of the way and as the miscellaneous clumps of feathers floated from the spot where his head should have been, he looked at her, bewildered, as though he doesn't understand why she's so upset. At least she wiped the silly grin off of his face. But it doesn't change the fact that she's lost him. Lavender was dragging him away again and he was going, even though the confusion towards her still stayed on his face as she did.

He still goes.

She knows her feelings for Ron aren't what they should be. She loves him, but in a platonic way. In the same way she loves her parents or Harry. She's just jealous of Lavender's ability to have what she wants; or more aptly said, who she wants. Hermione would love to have Ron close, to be able to feel more than she does for him but… It's impossible.

With a broken sob, she's left the no longer empty stairwell, urging Harry to go back to the common room. She just wants to be alone. She wants to go somewhere and cry and not be judged for it. She wants somewhere quiet and comforting. She'd go home if she could, but she settles for the next best place.

Professor Dolohov's office.

She still knocked, as she always does because no matter what emotional state she's in, she had to be polite. And as soon as his voice allows her entrance, she wandered inside. He's not looking at her from his spot on the couch. His eyes were absorbed in a book that he was holding in front of his relaxed form. Just the sight of him brought a warmth to Hermione's heart.

"I figured you would be busy this evening. Didn't Gryffindor win tonight?" _He doesn't even like Quidditch_ , she thinks offhandedly. But he knew that she would be busy celebrating with her friends if they won.

She didn't answer him as she walked around his coffee table, and he didn't even finally look at her until she had thrown herself directly next to him, leaning into his side for the reassurance she'd been desperately seeking for weeks now.

"Hermione?" She heard him question. But it's in that soft tone of voice he gets when he's concerned about her. And she decides that she loves it. She made a noise that sounded like a cross between a 'hmm' and a choked back sob in response. There wasn't much else she could say in that moment.

She felt him shift slightly from his position, laying his book down on the table in front of them. Her eyes follow it because she didn't want to meet his gaze. Not right now. She just wants him to stay still and allow her to get through all of her emotions before leaving to go back to her dorm. Of course, he wasn't going to do that without a few questions first.

"What's wrong?"

She sniffled slightly and as she felt more tears coming on, the same embroidered handkerchief she remembered from her fourth year is placed in her clasped hands. She dabbed at her eyes with it before mumbling out, "Boys are stupid."

He let out a breathy chuckle before placing his arms across his knees, bending himself forward slightly but allowing their shoulders and sides to continue touching. "I think I've heard that particular rant before."

She cracked a smile and leans further into him, pleased with her decision to come to him regardless. He knew how to make her feel better. Even if he was the one contributing to her sadness as well. "It's a little different this time," she offered.

"I suspect as much." He was quiet for a moment before asking, "Did you want to talk about it?"

She shakes her head slightly, sure that he can tell. And he can, as he doesn't pry any further. Instead, he flicked his wand towards the corner of the room where he kept his tea set. A few minutes later, a warm cup of her favorite tea, made just the way she liked it, was placed in her chilled hands. Her fingers ran along the china as she smiled softly at the gesture. Sure, she came here for tea often enough but he remembers hers by heart. Just as she knows his; no milk and four sugars.

There was just something intimate about knowing the way someone prefers their tea.

Taking a tentative sip, Hermione continued to watch the roaring fireplace in front of them and just soak up the warmth from her tea and the comfort her professor's form provided. He's inclined to do the same and neither spoke for what feels like an hour. She wondered if he would actually send her back before curfew, or if he understood that she needs him right now.

He does have that certain amount of perception about him.

"He's not interested," she finally says, startling them both with the sudden statement. Her especially since she knew for a fact that she wasn't talking about Ron.

"When has that stopped Hermione Granger?" He fired back, causing her to glance at him. He's watching her carefully out of the corner of his eye and gives a half smile at her surprised expression. She knew she wasn't giving up on the man any time soon, but just hearing him place so much faith in her was… wonderful.

"Never," she mumbles, looking back down at her clasped hands. One of his own lifts to rub at the hair around his jaw and chin.

"Make him interested." Her eyes widen at those three words. She had never thought to do anything like that. She figured he would just continue to see her as a silly schoolgirl and write her off. But… If she tried to gain his attention without being too forceful… He'd have to notice her. The wheels in Hermione's head began to turn as she thought through different scenarios.

"I could make him jealous," she wondered aloud.

She heard a noncommittal noise come from besides her accompanied by the man's voice, "That you could. I've seen it work many a times in my own school days. Many Slytherins called it a 'Saturday afternoon.'" Hermione giggled slightly at the thought before she went silent.

"What about with adults? Does it still work then?" At her question, one of his arms that had been resting on his knees moved. His hand rubbed itself on his thigh before to reached out and grabbed her own free hand. Their fingers weren't intertwined and it wasn't quite a romantic gesture; but it was solid and comforting.

"Oh yes. It still works with adults." His words were telling and when she looked at him, his gaze was illuminated by the flames in the fire. Did he suspect that she hadn't been talking about some boy her own age? Secretly, Hermione hoped he did. It would help when she began planning her next moves.

* * *

How had she ended up at Slughorn's Christmas party with Cormac McLaggen again?

 _Oh right…_

She had agreed to go with him because she told her friends that it would be the one person to make Ron the most jealous. In actuality, it was because Cormac had asked her right outside of the Great Hall entrance at the exact time Professor Dolohov had been walking by them. She had blurted out yes before even really considering the request. Though the look of surprise and subsequent annoyance that had passed over the older wizard's face had been completely worth it.

She had planted the first seeds of jealousy. And her smug mood had lasted her the rest of the day. She could only hope that her professor would be at the party as well. It seemed likely, she had seen Slughorn chatting happily away with the man many a times.

She had just hoped that she could handle it all. Hermione was quickly realizing how she felt about the older man. Especially after the lesson in Potion's with Amortentia…

She had been quick to answer, knowing the textbook definition of the intense love potion. But then she had been ready to admit what it smelled like. Fresh mowed grass from her childhood, new parchment, and then the beautifully distinctive smell of sandalwood that she's known since she was eleven years old.

That, her changed patronus, and her need to always be around him were all adding up to be more than just a simple schoolgirl crush in her opinion. Perhaps she'd just have to tell him one day. Maybe faced with the reality that she reacts so strongly to him because she's in love with him could change his mind about her.

 _Or not…_ She thinks with a sigh as she looks around the semi crowded room. She got all dressed up for the evening in a simple but elegant pink dress. It fell directly above her knees and, with her pink heels on, her legs looked fairly good. Cormac certainly couldn't stop staring at them. Well, that and her pushed up cleavage.

Her goal was to look more mature. She wanted her professor to begin to see her as something more than just a student but instead the only male's attention she had properly captured was the one she was using to make the one she wanted jealous. Not what she had planned at all.

And to make matters worse, she hadn't seen Professor Dolohov at all since she arrived half an hour ago. Would he even come at all?

Just as she was about to become a bit disappointed, she looked over at Harry, Ginny, and Luna and noticed that the redhead's eyes were wide as she stared at something across the room. While Harry's were narrowed as he looked between Ginny and whatever she was looking at. Following her gaze, Hermione landed on a strikingly familiar tall figure wearing what looked to be a tailored Muggle suit. His hair was styled back like usual and showed off his handsome face. He had recently shaved but the perpetual five o'clock shadow was incredibly enticing.

She couldn't look away from him. He looked every inch the pureblood Slytherin that she knew him to be. A true gentleman. And she and Ginny weren't the only ones who noticed. Most of the women in the room were eyeing him up. He showed up late dressed to the nines, of course they would. But thankfully he paid none of them any mind. Instead he went and greeted his old Head of House, chatting away with him and those around the boisterous man for the time being.

Hermione wished she could just go up to him, demand a dance, and then spend the rest of the evening with him. But instead it was Cormac who was dragging her onto the dancefloor and spinning her around and around until she felt like she was about to be sick. He was talented but much too flashy for her tastes. And he would never shut up either.

He isn't _completely_ repulsive, she decides. But he just wasn't what she liked or wanted. He boasted far too much, and never really seemed to be listening when she spoke. And when he stared at her, she didn't feel cherished, she felt like a piece of meat. _That must be the difference between boys and men_ , she thought as she was spun another bloody time.

Finally, instead of insisting that they continue dancing, Cormac ran off to get her a drink. Just as she was fanning herself, she looked around and tried to find her professor again.

She instantly regretted doing so.

He was standing a few feet from her, talking to the most beautiful woman that Hermione had ever seen. Deep ebony skin, a perfect chiffon bun, her black dress looked like an extra layer of skin, high cheekbones, statuesque; an ideal woman really. And her attention had certainly been captured by the dark wizard as well.

Hermione might not have minded, except for the fact that he was actually smiling at her. Granted, it wasn't a large one and it was only because he had shaved that she could tell, but regardless, he _never_ smiled at people when he talked. Not even her sometimes. The woman's hand was resting casually against his arm and the look in her eye needed no explanation. She was clearly attracted to him.

It was Vector and even Tonks all over again. She was losing to an older, prettier, better suited woman.

She could feel her heart dropping into her gut as her eyes drifted down and away from the couple. Turning away, she practically raced across the length of the room until she was behind the curtains near the window. She wanted to be away from people. She wished she hadn't come at all.

Would these feelings ever get better? Would there ever be a moment when she didn't feel like she was drowning around him? She took a shaky breath and turned to look out of the window. The night sky seemed to ground her a bit and she took in as much as she could. She didn't even notice the figure that had joined her behind the flimsy sheets until they were speaking directly into her ear.

"It's him, isn't it? The reason you've been acting so weird lately."

A gasp escaped her as she whirled around to face the familiar untidy black hair and bottle green eyes. Harry didn't look angry but he did have a pensive expression on his face as he watched her reaction.

"What are you…?" She started, but Harry cut her off swiftly.

"Dolohov. I checked the map after you walked away. I know I should have given you space but I just wanted to make sure you'd be okay and that you wouldn't get into any trouble. But I saw you go straight to his classroom and then into his office. You were there for over an hour Hermione, what were you doing?"

"Nothing," she replied immediately. At Harry's disbelieving look, she continued, "I'm serious Harry. I sat on his couch with him and watched his fire and drank tea. We barely even talked. He just let me stay because he knew I was upset."

"Yeah, but why do you go to him when you're sad? That doesn't make any sense."

"He listens. He listens and he doesn't try to give me false promises or sugarcoat anything. He tells me as much of the truth as he can. This wasn't the first time I've gone there, Harry. It's just the first time you saw me do it."

"Hermione… You're not… You know…" Sensing where her best friend was going, she quickly reassured him.

"No. No, it's just… friendly. But I'm…" she swallowed heavily before looking up into those familiar green eyes and spilled a piece of her heart to the person she knew would stick by her no matter what. "I'm in love with him."

Harry didn't look nearly as surprised as she thought he would be. At her confusion, he explained, "I thought something was different with you. But I also thought it was Ron…"

"Does it make a difference? That it's not."

He shook his head, "Not really. You're still my best friend, Hermione. I just wanted to make sure he wasn't taking advantage of you or anything."

At his sheepish smile, Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "Oh Harry… No, he's actually tried to discourage me quite a lot. But he's what I want… There's no other way to put it."

"I understand… I feel a lot like that with Ginny. I shouldn't love her because I'd only put her in danger but it doesn't change how I feel." The two friends shared knowing smiles and embraced each other with a new sense of comradery. They both loved people that they shouldn't. At least one day Harry and Ginny might get a happy ending.

Hermione could only hope for one.

* * *

 _He was fine._

This was fine. It was _great_ actually. She was doing exactly as he had asked of her. He had seen her many a times giggling and charming the youngest Weasley boy and even his older twin brothers a few spare times. And now she was here at this _lovely_ party with McLaggen.

It was completely _fine_.

It wasn't like his fists had been permanently clenched since he had witnessed that disgust- _wonderfully tactful_ invitation to the party from the Gryffindor boy to Miss Granger. Oh no, he had no problem what so ever with it. Especially not because it was _directly in front of him and Merlin knew he wouldn't have wanted to miss that._

He had no qualms about the bright smile that had been on her face as her eager voice accepted. He didn't care that she looked like an angel next to a toad at the party. The fact they were dancing didn't bother him in the slightest.

Antonin only wanted to burn the blighter from the inside out.

That was all.

He wouldn't even torture him first. Just a simple saying, a bit of wand waving, and he'd have the seventh year resembling a marshmallow dropped into a fire pit.

Extra crispy.

But that would be morally wrong of him, wouldn't it? Especially since he was trying so hard to be supportive of Hermione's choices. But _honestly…_ the brainless Gryffindor oaf? She'd have more stimulating conversation with an ogre.

And an ogre wouldn't be blatantly ogling her like McLaggen had been all evening. Antonin retracted his previous statement. He'd be torturing the boy before he cursed him. Starting with those wandering eyes of his.

Gritting his teeth, he continued making his rounds at the party. Many of his former classmates were overly interested in what he had been up to since graduation. With his current mood, he'd almost told several that joining Voldemort, deserting, and then becoming a school professor even with his ever increasing sexual and sadist thoughts towards teenagers was exactly what he had planned for himself after leaving Hogwarts.

Thank Merlin he had more than enough willpower. Otherwise he might have gotten himself into trouble years ago. Starting when a particular student started forcing herself into his life.

He wanted to be angry. He wanted to hate her for causing these feelings inside of him. He wanted to curse the day she was ever born and whatever deity that gave her magical abilities but he just… bloody couldn't.

Antonin didn't want to imagine his life without Hermione Granger's smile in it. He'd never give up her soft caresses or the fire in her eyes when he argues with her. He craves her conversation and the way she brings out the best and subsequent worst in him. He felt like a schoolboy around her. But also a lecherous old man. It was disconcerting and fantastic all at once.

And he wanted that. He wanted her.

Somedays he just wanted to forget for a moment that he was her professor. Just an hour, if that. He wanted to be able to tell her that he derived no pleasure from hurting her. That all he wanted was for her to be happy. That she owned a part of him that he long thought was imaginary.

Standing in a crowded room, all he could focus on was her. Even seeing the faces of some of his closer schoolmates didn't deter him from seeking her out. He constantly needed reassurance that she was there, that she was enjoying herself, that she didn't need him. Even if it crushed him, he could live with it. He'd dealt with worse pain. Maybe not in the same way, but he could manage.

For her, he would.

But when he turned to try to find her again, he couldn't spot her. The McLaggen idiot was apparently searching for her as well. Perhaps she had tried to get away from him? A perverse joy hummed through his body until he realized that she was still missing. Excusing himself from his current conversation, he walked around the edge of the room, eyes roving for the familiar head of curls. It was times like these when his height created a certain advantage. He could see over the rest of the guests but even so, he couldn't spot Hermione.

Stopping against a column near the back windows, he took one last look around the room before feeling the emptiness hit him right in the chest. She had most likely left. It was a dull affair, yes, but a part of him had reveled in the close proximity. And she was always a sight to him. Especially in those heels… He had never been more pleased with himself than the evening he had taught her cushioning spells. The normally uncomfortable shoes worked wonders when the wearer could strut confidently.

And Antonin could never tire of gazing at her shapely legs. To picture them wrapped around his shoulders, her hands fisted in his hair, a pleading voice ringing throughout the darkened room. His eyes glazed over at the thought as his back hit the stone beam behind him. He would kill himself one of these days if he kept up those thoughts. Or _get_ himself killed.

A light sigh escaped through his lips as he continued to watch the crowd until he heard just the barely understandable soft tones of a familiar voice come from behind the curtain he was standing next to. Turning slightly, he could just make out the form of his little witch and her friend Potter. Holding back a breath of relief, he watched her body language and tried to decipher what was happening in the moment. But just as he thought he was beginning to pick something up, she turned to walk out.

Snapping back to face the crowd, Antonin attempted to rearrange his expression into something hopefully neutral. She didn't need to worry about him being worried. Not in this situation at least.

"Oh! Professor Dolohov…" He glanced down when she almost ran into him. Why, just why, did she have to look so utterly delectable? With her almost permanently pouting lips and button nose and those eyes… _Merlin her eyes_ … He wanted to drown in the whiskey coloration.

"Miss Granger," he issues in curt acknowledgement. _This is the way it has to be_ , he thinks sullenly. He issued the boundaries and he had to be the one to keep it consistent.

"Um… how much did you hear?" She asks nervously, her hands wringing in front of her. The Potter boy steps around her, giving her arm a supportive squeeze before moving to go find his own date for the evening. Antonin personally didn't mind Miss Lovegood. She was quite the character in his opinion.

"Nothing at all," he reassures her, not liking the troubled look in her eye. Quirking one of his brows he asks, "Should I even ask?"

She shakes her head, "No sir. It's… it wasn't important…" She's lying. He knows and he knows that _she_ knows he knows. Why was she doing it then? To purposely exasperate him?

Doesn't she understand that this hurts him?

He's pushed off his own wants and desires for her happiness. He's given so much to her and he's still bloody trying… Can't she see that? Why does she continue to lie to him? Why can't she just trust that he's doing this for her even though it kills a piece of him every day that he has to see her with someone that isn't him?

He's only human.

"Miss Granger…" He starts, wanting to say something, anything, to make this better. To put a smile on her face. To gain a girlish giggle. But just as he's about to open his mouth, he watches her look up above him. Her eyes widen at something and his own gaze rises to see what she's seeing.

Mistletoe.

They were standing under mistletoe.

Were his cheeks reddening? It felt like he had just stepped into an open flame if the heat spreading through him was an indication. Looking back down, he caught the nervous expression on his witch as well. He cleared his throat to ease himself through the embarrassment as his hand raised to rub the back of his neck.

Hermione gave him a sheepish smile that mirrored how he felt as she took a tentative step closer to him. They held the other's gaze and Antonin could physically feel the blood pounding in his ears as his heart raced. Could she hear it as well? He certainly hoped not.

But just as he solidified his decision to honor Christmas tradition and indulge himself in his six-year obsession, an arm came across his girl's shoulders and pulled her flush against the chest of her date.

"Look Granger, mistletoe!" Just as he saw her mouth open in indignation, the one-foot-in-the-grave Gryffindor attached himself to Hermione's lips. He appeared to literally sweep inside of her mouth, attempting to play what the recent generations of students had dubbed "tonsil tag."

Antonin felt himself freeze for a moment before he noticed Hermione's petite hands shoving at the burly boy's chest. Then he snapped.

One arm shot out and gripped the boy by the back of the collar, effectively getting his attention and pulling him apart from the little witch. Shoving him across the room, not nearly as hard as he wanted, he glared at the idiot as he felt his muscles clenching in complete murderous rage.

At the sound of sputtering nonsense, Antonin replied in a snarl, " _Sod off McLaggen_."

The terrified student nodded dumbly before turning to walk away. The crowd around them had hardly noticed and the few who did went back to whatever they had previously been doing. Turning away from the center of the room, he didn't even speak as he firmly grabbed Hermione's arm and led her towards the back of the room towards the second exit.

As soon as they hit the chilled castle corridors, he shrugged out his suit jacket and placed it around her shoulders before grasping her wrist and tugging her through the hallways. She was saying something, he could tell because he could hear her voice, but the blood was pounding in his ears again. But not from excitement this time.

He needed to distract himself. He needed to not go after the bastard and rip his spinal cord from his body. He needed to remember that the boy was just a student. That he was only involved with Hermione because he himself had pushed her to it. But it didn't stop his thoughts from growing darker. It didn't stop him from being unable to comprehend just what Hermione's shrill voice was shouting at him as he drug her through the castle towards his office.

Once inside, he closed the door behind them and stalked off towards his alcohol. He wasn't doing this without a drink. He absolutely refused to. But just as he started, a tiny figure had maneuvered her way in front of him and stopped him in his tracks.

"No! This is not happening! I refuse to be embarrassed, manhandled, and ignored all in the span of half an hour! And you're not just going to drink until this problem goes away. We're going to discuss it like adults because that's what I legally am and what you've been for over twenty years now!"

Annoyed, Antonin narrowed his eyes at her tone of voice, "And pray tell, just what do we have to discuss?"

Hermione's mouth dropped open in disbelief before anger hardened her features. _She was beautiful even then_ , his mind registered before her voice drowned out his thoughts. "Your atrocious behavior for one. I don't appreciate being dragged out of a party and halfway across the castle without even a simple 'please.' And that was completely uncalled for with what you did to Cormac. I could have handled him on my own."

"Could you now? Didn't seem like it to me. Besides, I did you a favor, _Miss Granger_. The boy was a simpleton anyways."

"So what? Maybe I like simpletons. Maybe I want simple. I'm tired of complicated and confusing and overwhelmingly disappointing."

" _Pozdravleniye!_ " He exclaimed with obviously feigned enthusiasm. "You've found the perfect specimen then. I'm sure you'll find much happiness with him and his enlightening conversations about himself."

"Why are you being so cruel about this?!" She yelled at him, stepping even closer as her face heated up with rage. "It was _your_ idea for me to experience new relationships."

"Not directly in front of me!" He shouted back. He knew it was childish. He knew it was unreasonable. But she made him feel like a different person. Someone he wasn't even sure he liked or not.

"Why do you even care?! You looked like you were having a splendid time with that lovely woman who showed up shortly after you did. Why didn't you just stay with her?" Her tone had taken on a pleading tone but one that he didn't like in the slightest.

He took a dangerous step towards her and she took one back, throwing up her hands like they would protect her. Grabbing her wrists in each hand, he pinned her against the bookcase directly behind her before he crashed his lips down on hers.

This was what passion was. This is what he had always imagined but never quite achieved with all of those various women. They didn't thrill him, they didn't warm him, they didn't seize hold of everything that he was.

They weren't Hermione Granger.

The kiss was bruising, a mixture of flesh and teeth and tongue but it was intoxicating. She was giving her control up to him and he was taking as much as he wanted. If only he could stay in that moment for as long as possible… but he had to come up for air eventually. As he did, he could hear her own breathing deepen as she stared up at him in captivation.

He dropped her wrists and cupped her cheeks with both hands, staring directly into her open book eyes before softly murmuring, "You know why I care. You've always known. I've just been too stubborn to admit it. But you… you see past the walls I've tried so hard to carefully construct."

Her eyes watered slightly as her own hands came up to grasp the front of his black vest. "Then why… Why do you keep pushing me away? Why do you insist on letting me get close and then backing away when it gets too real?"

He breathed out a slight laugh before running his thumbs underneath her watery lashes, "Look at me _moy svet_. I'm a forty-one-year-old man who can't afford to settle down because of the price of the baggage he carries. I'm a murderer, I deserve to be in prison for my crimes, but I'm too much of coward to face judgement. Just as I was too scared to get too close to you. And now I'll be lucky to make it to forty-two at this rate. I play a dangerous game, juggling two separate lives."

"Then let me be there for you," she begged, gripping the silk fabric in her tiny hands even tighter. Antonin half believed it was the only thing holding her up.

"I can't…" He started until she began to wildly shake her head.

"No, no! You can't just walk away from me after this. I won't let you! Please… Just talk to me." Maybe it was the look in her eyes. Maybe it was the way his heart and subconscious screamed at him to do so.

But he relented, and nodded. Allowing her to lead him to his couch, they both collapsed on it before she turned to face him. Her hands were in her lap and she was playing with the hem of her dress as she nervously watched him.

"What is it?" He asked quietly, wondering what had her so ill at ease.

She gave him a half smile, "I'm just worried that as soon as we start this you'll shut down again."

He nodded in understanding, before taking one of her smaller hands in his. Keeping a loose grip on her, he rubbed the smooth flesh between the calloused pads of his fingers, "I do have the habit of doing just that, don't I? But not right now. I promise that we will properly discuss this, as you said, like adults.

"Alright," she said, appeased at the moment. She watched their connected hands for a moment before looking up and asking him, "Who was that woman anyways? The pretty one with the black dress."

Antonin's brows furrow for a moment as he thinks back to the party. When he realizes who she was talking about, he gave her a look of confusion, "Floriana? Floriana Zabini. She and I were in the same year, _malyutka_. Nothing more than school friends."

"She certainly looked at you like she wanted to be more than friends," his little witch replied dryly, annoyance shining in her eyes.

Chuckling slightly, he answered, "Yes, I'm sure she did. But I was smart enough to decline her offer of marriage our seventh year. The five dead husbands she's left in her wake remind me that I made the right decision."

"Isn't that a bit excessive?" He heard her mumble.

"A bit," he conceded. "But Floriana was always one for dramatics."

"So you never slept with her?" She asks hesitantly. He shakes his head with a slight grimace on his face.

"I like to think that I have a higher life expectancy now by abstaining from it."

He couldn't help but smile when he heard Hermione burst into a fit of giggles. She calmed herself down a bit before asking her next question, "Were you really jealous? Of Ron and Cormac?"

Antonin stifled the urge to roll his eyes, "Yes, Hermione. Perhaps not as much with Weasley because he has been your friend for many years now, but you saw how I reacted to McLaggen… Just the sight of him touching you had me plotting his death."

She gave him an amused look as she scooted closer to him on the couch, "Does your mind always go straight to murder?"

"When I become possessive of you, I suppose it does."

Her eyes widened slightly, "Are you possessive of me?"

Antonin found his head shaking in disbelief, "I've thought of you as mine since before it was appropriate."

"Third year?" She guesses.

"Second."

She nods her head slightly, thinking hard about something before brightening up instantly, "The Basilisk! I was petrified and you must have been so worried." She gazed at him with such compassion and warmth… What had he done to deserve this again?

"I was. I almost broke the railing to your cot because I was gripping it too tightly. But that was the first moment I had ever thought of you as mine. Of course, I was too preoccupied to stop and think about it and the consequences but I can still recall it."

"You keep talking about consequences… But you've never really explained them."

He looked over into his quietly burning fireplace for a moment, not wanting to have this particular talk with her. But she's been put through so much, and by his own hand at that. She deserves the truth and he owes it to her.

"There are many who would see our… feelings for one another as inappropriate. Most would merely assume I took advantage of you. Others would believe that you are too young to understand the stipulations of such a relationship." _Like me_ , were the words floating between them, unspoken.

"But I'm of age now. And in a little over a year, I won't even be your student anymore. After that, surely no one could fault either of us for that."

Antonin gave her a dry smile before continuing, "If that were the only problem then you would be correct." At her befuddled expression, he added, "I'm still a Death Eater, Hermione. I go when I'm called and I work at Voldemort's behest. You are the Muggleborn best friend of Harry Potter. I could be killed simply for being nice to you, let alone pursuing you. And you… They would try to destroy you in the worst possible ways…"

His heart dropped at his own words. Knowing that the severity of the situation had just been put into words was a devastating blow. But he was brought back to the present by that wiggling of a little witch in his lap. Hermione had completely scooted herself back until her distracting bum was planted firmly overtop of his thighs and her back was against his chest.

Her hands were still on his hand and they pulled it across her stomach so she could be partially engulfed by him. She leaned her head back onto his shoulder and her soft, feminine voice rang out through his office, "It's dangerous, I know. People won't understand. But I… I don't want to constantly feel like I'm not important to you…"

Antonin's other arm quickly wrapped around her, hugging her close to him. With his mouth close to her ear, he reassured her, " _Lyubimaya_ … You have become one of the most important parts of my life. I just couldn't stand the thought of being the reason you could get hurt or ostracized."

Her head turned slightly so that they could look at each other in the eye. Her voice oozed the typical Gryffindor superiority that he had always hated when he was in school but now found strangely attractive on this tiny witch. "Then stop trying to push me away."

"Alright," he conceded, eyes firmly planted on her own. He saw her gaze slide down to his lips and back up and Antonin understood what she wanted. So he gave it to her.

It was a sweeter kiss than before. He let her set her own pace and was content to simply leisurely press his mouth to hers. He kept his hands firmly planted on her hips but could feel hers traveling over the course of his arms and shoulders. Her touch felt like lazy mornings and the initial relief of stretching away a long night of restful sleep. She calmed Antonin's very soul with her mere presence alone.

"Will you wait for me?" She asks as they break apart for a moment, reminiscence of the same night months ago when she asked him the same thing. At that moment, he had been too blind to see, to understand that he couldn't go very long with having Hermione in his life like this. Spread across his lap, face shining with a loving glow for him and him alone, and hope piercing through her eyes.

He had thought he would ruin her. He still feared he would. But in this moment, she was truly his. And he wanted nothing more than to return the sentiment. He knew she was more than enough to take care of him and his demons.

He'd be damned if he was going to throw this away again.

"Yes."


	10. Year Six - Part Three

**Year Six – Part Three**

* * *

He was here.

Hermione was practically bouncing up and down on the worn, ugly couch that occupied the library of Grimmauld Place as she repeated the statement over and over again in her head. It was Christmas and she was here and so was he. Professor Dolohov would only be here for the night, but it was Christmas Eve and he would be _here_.

With her.

After their moment together in his office, they had agreed to contain their affection to private places as not to draw attention to themselves. But Hermione thought for sure that Ginny and even Harry could tell there was something different about her; in the way she held herself. So long as Ron and any adults remained clueless, she could handle those two knowing.

But especially the adults… None of them needed to know anything. They were just beginning to trust and like her professor. She wouldn't be the one to mess that up. Even if she just wanted to sit in the man's lap and rub her cheeks across his constant stubble.

That would attract unwanted attention though. So, she begrudgingly restrained herself. But if he was here, they could close themselves off from everyone else. They could be alone and Hermione could be as affectionate as she wanted. And she really wanted that.

She was stuck waiting though. Apparently, her professor had to speak to Harry again. About what, she didn't quite know. But it was like what had happened over the summer. They disappeared for an hour, and no one spoke about it afterwards. Sometimes she thought about just asking the older wizard but she knew that if he didn't freely offer the information, then it wasn't something she would learn any time soon.

Even her best friend had been tight lipped about it. That and his meetings with Dumbledore throughout the first term. That latter wasn't _too_ out of the ordinary, but combined they caused enough suspicion in the young witch's bright mind. She hated not knowing something.

After almost half an hour, she heard her best friend in the hallway, thanking Professor Dolohov for… whatever it was that he had said or did. Waiting a few more moments, she let the hallway clear before standing from her spot, stretching out her previously unused legs. Gathering herself, she tiptoed out of the library and climbed the stairs to the fourth floor.

She paused outside of his room, making sure no other occupants were around the corner, before knocking softly. He surprised her by opening the door himself, causing her to jump slightly. He raised a brow as he stepped out into the hallway, letting her see behind him into his room. Sirius, Remus, and Tonks all stood inside, each trying in different subtle ways to look around the larger man to see who was at his door.

Hermione tried to contain her cheeks from flushing but she couldn't tell if it was working or not. Luckily her professor was prepared to save her from embarrassment. "Miss Granger, right on time." She tried not to let the confusion of his statement throw her off as he ushered her inside of his room. The three adults all were looking at her in varying degrees of surprise.

"You were wondering about Creaton's _Magical Influence_ , yes?" She quickly nodded her head along with his statement, still not fully understanding where he was going with this. He browsed the books on his shelf for a moment before plucking one off and turning to hand it to her. She gazed at the worn cover for a moment before his voice interrupted the wheels turning in her mind.

"The creation of spells is nothing to take lightly, Miss Granger. If you run into any problems or have any questions whilst reading, please come and discuss them with me right away." She looked up with a bright smile on her face. This was brilliant. _He_ was brilliant.

"Yes, sir," she says pleasantly. She left his room after thanking him profusely, causing knowing smirks to appear on the other adults in the rooms faces. Typical Hermione, they probably figured. Little did they know that he had just saved her from explaining why she had come to his room in the first place. It certainly wasn't anything to do with school work. Although it did have a bit to do with bettering her knowledge of certain subjects.

Professor Dolohov was indeed an interesting subject, after all.

She passed the rest of the afternoon into the evening talking with Ron and Harry and their intense paranoia over Draco Malfoy. She honestly didn't see the big deal. So the Slytherin was acting a bit squirrely, it didn't mean he was "up to something" as Ron so eloquently put it. He could just be having a bad year. His father _had_ been in Azkaban for a while and the Dark Lord _had_ returned. That'd be enough to cause problems for anyone.

Mostly Hermione just wasn't worried because Professor Dolohov wasn't. He figured Malfoy would eventually take the Mark regardless, but wouldn't be given any duties until after he graduated. Hermione agreed with him. With both Professor Dolohov and Snape inside of Hogwarts, Voldemort wouldn't need anyone else. But it helped that both men were on their side.

When it was time for dinner, she had attempted to casually place herself next to her professor, but he had somehow been firmly accepted into the folds of the former Marauders. Sirius was reliving former school memories, probably in the hopes that the older wizard would join in and share some of his own. As unlikely as it seemed, Hermione almost hoped he would. He never spoke of his schooldays often.

Just as she was smugly thinking that he would just continue to throw disinterested looks at the scruffy Animagus, he ended up sighing heavily before speaking, "Alright, if it'll get you to shut up."

The table went silent, which had to be a first, as their professor took a quick drink, mulling over whatever he was about to say. He cleared his throat slightly and looked at Sirius and Remus' smirking faces from the corner of his eye.

"I'm not sure what you expect to hear…"

"Tell us something you remember about the Marauders!" One of the twins chimed. Professor Dolohov rolled his eyes but apparently was prepared to acquiesce.

"I didn't personally have too many interactions with the merry band of Gryffindors. That honor went to Lucius," as he said this, Sirius looked ready to make a comment before her professor swiftly cut him off. "Regardless. I do remember one particular instance my seventh year where I came across the four of them harassing Evans and Snape in the hallway."

"We didn't harass her," Sirius chirped unhappily. Her professor leveled an unimpressed stare at him that caused several occupants of the table to chuckle before he continued.

"I was passing through on my way to the library when I found them having some sort of childish standoff in the middle of the corridor."

"It wasn't childish!" Sirius barked.

"It was kind of childish," Remus remarked quietly from next to him.

"As I was saying," Professor Dolohov drawled. "I was fully prepared to turn and find a different route until I realized that the two with their backs to me were Snape and Evans. Slytherin's stick together and, well, I liked Evans."

"Evans… you mean my mum?" Harry asked from next to her. Hermione's ears perked up slightly at the statement as well. She had no idea that her professor had ever had any interactions with Harry's mom.

"I do. I tutored her that year in Divination." Most of those at the table looked at him in surprise. Obviously it hadn't been common knowledge. Even Sirius looked shocked. The only person who didn't was Lupin.

"I remember that…" He expressed softly. "She told me Severus had recommended you and that without you she would have failed."

"She was plenty good on her own, she just lacked incentive," the darker man said as he shrugged his shoulder.

"And what sort of incentive did you give her?" Sirius asked with a suspicious look on his face.

Professor Dolohov raised an eyebrow before quipping, "I told her to picture those that bothered her in embarrassing and scandalous positions. She told me shortly after her last exam in the class that Trelawney had been especially impressed with her prophecy concerning yours and Potter's love life."

"You didn't!" The twins cried out in disbelief as Sirius looked on in horror.

"Was that why the old bat seemed so flustered whenever she saw James and I alone together?!" Her professor hid his grin behind his glass as the room erupted into laughter. When it began to die down, he went back to his original story.

"But, as I was saying, I couldn't just leave the two of them on their own. So I made use of a spell that I had recently invented." He caught Hermione's eye and smirked before saying, "The Lightened Load charm has strange effects when cast on living beings. They wind up weighing less than the gravity around them and floating to the ceilings."

Hermione covered her mouth with her hands as she and the table erupted in mirth yet again. Sirius was shouting in indignation as her professor maintained a look of complete innocence. Apparently the former convict hadn't known that it was her professor who had caused them to spend hours practically stuck to the stony castle ceilings.

"It took quite a while for that spell to wear off," Remus mused as Sirius looked like a perpetuate child next to him.

"That was the intended purpose," the older wizard remarked dryly. But it caused a grin to break out on Sirius' previously grumpy face.

"I knew you weren't a stick in the mud Dolohov," he boasted.

The darker man deadpanned before remarking, "No, just more creative than Gryffindors apparently."

Hermione smiled as the noise level around them continued to fluctuate. It was great to see him in this element. He seemed to be enjoying himself. And he had opened up a bit! Harry had certainly looked interested at the new information about his mother.

But she still maintained that she wanted to be alone with him.

After another few hours of menial and separate conversations, most of the house's occupants were heading off to bed. They wanted to be able to wake up early in the morning for holiday celebrations. Hermione would have shared their sentiments if she wasn't sitting in her room, cursing Sirius Black for insisting that Professor Dolohov, him, and Remus sit in his father's study and drink his good whiskey.

This was the only moment that Hermione regretted integrating her professor with the rest of the order. They were taking all of his attention.

Shortly after midnight, Hermione crept out of her room to the sound of complete silence throughout the place. She went downstairs first and made sure that the men weren't _still_ in the bloody study. Seeing that they weren't, she padded her way back upstairs and straight to the fourth floor, second door on the left.

She knocked quickly and quietly on the door but after several minutes passed, she grew concerned. Had he already gone somewhere else instead of staying the night like she had previously heard? Reaching out and grabbing the doorknob, she gave it an experimental twist and was disheartened to see it turn and open. Normally Professor Dolohov warded his door before tucking in for the night.

Unless… She paused as she contemplated opening the door and just looking inside. He could have left it unwarded for her…

Doing as her gut said, she pushed open the door and shuffled inside, closing it silently behind her. Turning to look around the darkened room, she immediately noticed that the bed was occupied. Creeping over to the side of his bed, Hermione saw that her professor was fast asleep on his stomach. She suppressed a giggle as she pulled back the covers and crawled in next to him.

He must have passed out from drinking too much.

She snuggled in close to the warm man and found herself drifting off soon after, pleasantly tucked into his side with his intoxicating smell swirling around her.

* * *

Waking up the morning after, she found that she was practically laying on top of the man who was still out like a light. But they had shifted in the middle of the night, he was on his back with one of his arms curled underneath of her head and woven into her bird's nest hair. She, on the other hand, was draped across his chest with her legs practically straddling his thigh.

 _He made a better bed than his actual one did_ , she mused sleepily.

Shifting slightly, she looked up at his peaceful features and was content to just lay and watch him for a few minutes as she let herself wake up. Feeling the urge to kiss him after being deprived for so long yesterday, she attempted to scoot herself up when her thigh brushed against an indescribable hardness.

Stopping where she was, Hermione's sleep addled mind began working in overdrive before she came to the conclusion that men often had that problem upon waking. Most books described it as 'morning wood.' Slightly embarrassed that she was thinking of her professor's genitals, she quickly flopped herself off of the man, waking him up in the process.

"Bloody hell!" She heard him swear lowly as he sat up abruptly. He rubbed his eyes to rid the sleep away before glancing down at her. "You know… there are much better, easier, and more pleasurable ways to wake me up in the morning."

At the word 'pleasure', her face turned what felt like a brilliant shade of red. He quirked an eyebrow at her and asked, "Having ideas already?"

"S-Shut up…" She stammered out, crossing her arms across her chest as she felt the bed rumble at his deep chuckling. Curse him and his sexy, sleep filled voice…

"I'm only teasing _malyutka_. It's a pleasure just being able to wake up next to you in the morning." Her head shot up but he had already fallen onto his back with his eyes shut. She curled up next to him and pressed a small kiss into his bare shoulder blade.

"I like waking up next to you as well." He was silent, but she could see his lip curled up amidst the stubble. And the indent on his cheek was visible. He was clearly pleased by her sentiments.

"Do you have to leave today?" She asked after a few minutes of silence had passed. She listened to the rumble of his chest as he spoke,

"Yes. I was only asked to stay for the night."

"But you _could_ stay longer… couldn't you?" She didn't want to pressure him or bother him, but she wanted more time like this. More of him to herself.

"I'm afraid not. I have prior obligations."

"Like what?" But her question went unanswered and she knew that it wouldn't be answered anytime soon either. He still kept some secrets to himself. And instead of just lying to her, he remained silent. She supposed it was better. Annoying but better.

"You won't have to visit Voldemort, will you?" That was her guess for what he would be doing and she sincerely hoped that wasn't the case. It was a holiday and that megalomaniac could ruin it easily.

"No. Not that I'm aware of." They were silent for a bit after that before Hermione asked another question that often weighed on her mind.

"How do you go before him without him knowing that you aren't really loyal to him anymore?"

"Occlumency," her professor answered immediately.

"You know it?" She asked, surprised but also not at the same time. He was a brilliant man. Why wouldn't he know how to shield his thoughts from others?

"Obviously," he teased, earning him a sharp poke in the ribs. He chuckled at her expense again before continuing. "I taught myself. But I often practiced with my mother. She was skilled at both shielding and reading the mind."

"What was your mother like? Besides that," she asked him.

"Strong was always the first word that came to my mind. She stood tall and proud in any situation and never backed down to anyone. Not even my father. I often thought she would be a Gryffindor if she had ever attended Hogwarts. But she was privately trained in Russia by tutors as most pureblood women are in my home country."

"She sounds amazing…" Hermione said, a hint of awe in her voice. That explains why her professor is so amazing. He must have had one stellar role model.

"She is," he remarked fondly. "But, I think it's time we get up for the day, don't you?"

Hermione groaned as she pressed her face into his chest, "Do we have to? I hardly got to spend any time with you. Sirius kept stealing you away."

She felt him press a kiss into the top of her hair. "Black is not nearly pretty enough nor enough of my type to hold my constant attention."

Grinning from ear to ear, Hermione allowed him to rise from the bed to get dressed. She even let him usher her out so that she could return to her own room to start the busy day of gift exchanges. It didn't matter because while he was saying that Sirius wasn't his type:

He was implying that she was.

* * *

Were they in the habit of poisoning students now?

Antonin cast a quick side-eye to the Potion's Master standing on his right. While he wouldn't put it out of the man's repertoire to poison _anyone_ , let alone a Weasley, it just didn't seem like the kind of thing he would do. Especially not right under everyone's noses. And not with such a horrific, yet easily recognizable poison.

Even with his varying grasps of Potions knowledge, Antonin could still tell that the poison used was readily available in Knockturn Alley and wasn't a typical kind you used for spiking drinks or food. Most who were convicted of using it would shove it down a person's throat as a form of torture because of how slow acting and painful it was.

Whoever tried to inflict it on the Headmaster obviously didn't possess enough knowledge about it.

Antonin had taken the bottle from Slughorn and upon taking a quick whiff of it, could immediately smell the distinctive aroma of nightshade. The alcohol did nothing to mask the sickly sweet scent. That was what made it so ineffective in food and drinks. There was nothing that could hide it.

The individual responsible for this had to either be a complete idiot or desperate. Or both, honestly. _There were so many better ways to kill a person_ , Antonin thought to himself. Even in the area of poisons. You just had to be creative enough.

Realizing that those thoughts weren't helping his supposedly reformed persona, he redirected his attention back to the Gryffindor's bedside. _Hermione was there_ , he noted affectionately. She looked adorable with a furrow in her brows and concern shining through her eyes. Even if it wasn't directed at him, he could still appreciate it.

He was slightly surprised when he had arrived earlier and saw her at the boy's bedside. He had expected jealousy to rage through him like with what had happened during the McLaggen debacle. But something clicked in his mind that her best friend had almost died and he shouldn't be an arse about it.

Besides, Weasley wasn't the one she spent her free time saddled up next to.

"Who would attempt to poison the Headmaster inside of his own school?" Minerva asked as she stood watching over her unconscious cub with unease written in her expression.

"There has been no activity amongst the Death Eaters that suggests any of them having any involvement," he heard the man next to him slow enunciate. Snape would be the authority on that knowledge. Antonin had only been to see the Dark Lord, personally, twice since term started. And neither meeting lasted longer than ten minutes.

He was just ordered to reveal any news he dubbed important and then return as soon as possible. But he had the nagging suspicion that something big was going to happen soon. This attack on Dumbledore on solidified it. Especially when it suddenly occurred to him who or what the perpetrator could be.

"A student," he breathed out, causing Snape to turn his head sharply in his direction.

"What was that Antonin, my boy?" Slughorn asked him.

"A student," he repeated, only louder. "A student would have the means to do this and the inexperience to fail this miserably at it."

"But what student would do this?" _Draco Malfoy_ , he answered instantly. But he wouldn't say it out loud. If the boy was behind this, it was only because either he was given the task of doing so or he was trying to redeem his family. Either way, he wasn't a threat to be taken seriously. Not if he could botch a simple poisoning.

Instead, Antonin stayed silent and noted that Snape did as well. Good, they were on the same page for once. Much as he detested the man, they did have similar qualities that made it easier to predict what he was thinking. And it was usually the same thing the older man was thinking.

"Nevertheless, those are big accusations, Antonin. What proof could you possibly have that it could be a student?" Minerva looked unconvinced as the Headmaster looked thoughtful.

Resisting the urge to scoff at such a question, he answered without hesitation, "Any Death Eater worth his salt would know countless ways to assassinate a target. There's a particular charm that can be infused in a drink to make most potions undetectable to untrained and in some circumstances, even trained eyes."

The room went silent as every eye, except Weasley's, was on him. Most expressions holding varying degrees of discomfort.

"Yes, well… I won't ask how you know that Antonin, but it didn't exactly answer the question," his ex-professor stated curtly as she continued to eye him with worry. He felt like planting his hand over his face. Why did his disturbing knowledge of murder have to show at inopportune moments such as these?

He cleared his throat in slight embarrassment before continuing, "You see, it couldn't have been a trained Death Eater. They wouldn't have chosen such a recognizable poison to begin with. And with the cursed necklace from a few weeks ago, and the Imperius Curse on Miss Bell being positively weak… Whoever cast it either didn't mean it or didn't have nearly enough practice using it. Signs of inexperience, overconfidence, and desperation point to the culprit being a student."

The adults in the room nodded their heads thoughtfully as his explanation. When he wasn't discussing his own methods of murder, most were on board with his train of thought. And it made sense, obviously. He had been a Death Eater long enough to know that while some of them were utterly moronic, they were at least lethal at murder. A student, not so much.

As the deliberation continued, he decided to excuse himself for the evening. He'd had enough talk of potential death and murder plots. He looked across the room and made eye contact with his little witch. She had a questioning look in her eye but he gave her a small smile before turning and indicating that he was about to leave. She gave him one of his favorite bright smiles before turning to go back to the Weasley brat.

Boy.

He meant boy.

Looks like his jealousy had just been waiting to manifest itself.

Stifling a groan, he made to leave, but the Headmaster had cut him off. "Antonin, could you walk an old man to his tower?" Realizing that he had no choice in that matter, he did as he was asked and trailed next to the man through the dimmed corridors.

"I did have ulterior motives for asking you to accompany me," he admitted once they neared his office.

"Of course you did," he replied, eyes never straying from their dead set position in front of him. Whatever Dumbledore had to say, Antonin would still seem disinterested in it. It was his Slytherin persona after all.

"I wanted to check up and see how you and Miss Granger were fairing."

Well. That certainly wasn't what he was expecting. Coming to a complete halt, Antonin watched the wizened man's back with unease. Just what was he getting at this time?

"Don't look so concerned, Antonin. Severus merely brought to my attention the incident you two had at Horace's Christmas party. Dragging her through the hallways was a bit uncouth, don't you think?"

In hindsight, yes. But since when had Snape been there? Was it possible he had missed the surly man in his search for Hermione? It was entirely possible. He hadn't exactly been in the right state of mind.

"I don't mean to pry, but I'm worried about what you believe is happening here. Miss Granger is a child, no matter her increased age from Time Turner usage. She has most of her life to live, albeit riding on our victory over Tom. This is no time for distractions. You understand that Antonin."

Distractions… That wasn't what Hermione was though. Sure, he sometimes _felt_ distracted by her, but ultimately he knew what was at stake. He knew what he had to do to make sure as many people made it out of this brewing war alive. And he would kill himself before he allowed Hermione to perish.

"I understand Albus."

The old man smiled sadly at him, "I don't believe that you do. You are far too fixated on her. You rushed to the Ministry with the hopes of saving her but you forget that _Harry_ is our hope. He must come before all else. Even our feelings of protectiveness."

Was that all he felt? Protective? Perhaps at first. When she was truly a child. Then possessive. And then infatuation. Now he held her to a certain degree of affection and fondness. Did he…? No, this is exactly what the Headmaster was talking about.

"Antonin," the old wizard murmured, pulling him from his thoughts. "I can see that you care about her and she for you. But that's all it is. Remember that. We can care for others without letting them dictate our choices."

Care. Comfort. Safety. He wanted to fall to his knees in anguish. Was that truly all he felt for her? Was that really all she felt for him? Perhaps it was better that way… He would most likely die before the end of this war. Could he save her and himself from future, unnecessary heartbreak?

 _Would he, was the better question._

* * *

They were running.

She and Luna. Death Eaters had invaded the castle and they had been trying to find the professors who might not know. They were currently rushing down to the dungeons to find Professor Snape. The younger girl was matching Hermione's speed as they fled through the hallways.

Hermione was grateful for the companionship. It made it less stressful to know that she wasn't alone in this situation. As they downed another step of stairs that immediately placed themselves accordingly with Hermione's urgency and rushed down adjacent corridors, they came to a grinding halt when two figures blocked their path.

She instantly recognized one of the figures; Rabastan Lestrange.

The other she wasn't entirely certain about. But he had a few familiar features with one of Malfoy's lackeys. Crabbe. Could it be a relative of his?

She didn't have time to think much on the subject as Lestrange spotted them, a wide grin crossing his features. "Well, hello there pretties. Lost? Gryffindors and Ravenclaws certainly don't belong in the chilly dungeons."

Despite his almost friendly words, Hermione took a tentative step backwards, grasping Luna's hand as she did. She would protect the petite blonde with everything she had if need be.

"Now, now, none of that. We just crossed paths. Wouldn't want to disturb fate, would you?" Lestrange's voice dripped with something that Hermione couldn't place. But she didn't like it. It sent shivers racking down her spine and goosebumps to erupt on her arms. She took another step back as the men in front of her took several steps forward.

"Watch the hallway, Crabbe. I'm just gonna… _chat_ with these two lovely ladies for a moment." _So he was related_ , her mind processed before realizing that they were going to be alone with the most definitely dangerous man still unnervingly grinning at her.

"S-Stay away…" She cursed herself for stammering, but she maintained enough confidence to stand her ground, not looking away even as the Death Eater gave a chilling laugh.

"Gryffindors. Always so brave," he taunted, tilting his head slightly as he continued walking towards them. "I can respect that. It's got a certain… _sexy_ quality about it," the lewd implication didn't go unnoticed by Hermione. She took another step backwards but wasn't paying attention as the man almost in front of them lunged forward, grabbing her wand arm and pining it behind her.

"Hermione," she heard Luna's airy but underlined panicked voice say.

"Hermione?" Lestrange repeated, testing her name on his lips. "Pretty name. Unique. I like it," he drawled out, pulling her closer to his lean form. He wasn't exactly muscular, just thin and lanky with enough of a grip that she couldn't escape from.

He dropped his head by her ear and she heard him whisper harshly, "You ever been fucked by a real man, Her-mi-knee." She struggled against him, but he used his body weight and height to push her into a wall, keeping her still. Flicking his wand, he pinned her friend in place before conjuring ropes that attached to Hermione's hands.

Another wordless spell had them attached to the wall above her head, heaving her chest out for his disgusting gaze to wander over. She continued to squirm but he placed his thigh between her legs to still her frantic movements.

"Come now, lovely. Just stay still. I promise you'll enjoy yourself. I'm quite the lover, even to Mudbloods like yourself," he rasped into her ear as he ground himself into her hip. She could feel a similar outline of anatomy that she could with Professor…

She choked back at sob at the thought of her wizard. He must be looking for her. Surely he was. And here she was, about to have her virginity forcefully taken from her by a disgusting, cruel, parody of a man. She wanted her first time to be special. She wanted sex in general to be with someone she cared about. Someone she loved.

She wanted it to be with Professor Dolohov.

Tears escaped from her eyes as her vest was ripped and the buttons of her blouse torn open. Lestrange eyed her breasts hungrily for a brief pause before taking them in his hands and gripping them painfully. Hermione gasped in pain and the man took it as a sign to begin plundering her mouth with his own.

He was much harder and brutish than the only other man she's kissed. He wasn't at all gentle or passionate. Just severe with the intent to cause as much pain as possible.

His tongue wrapping around hers felt foreign and unwelcomed. The taste of him was all wrong. The smell of expensive cologne fogged her senses and made her feel detached from the situation. Or maybe she just already was. She didn't want to be there. She didn't want this horrible man to paw all over her.

Just as she felt on the brink of just giving up and accepting her fate as she heard the clang of a buckle being undone, the pressing weight on the front of her body disappeared. Her arms fell from the ropes binding her and she dropped like an unused marionette to the stone ground. Small, soft hands grasped at the remains of her shirt and helped to cover her remaining modesty.

But she couldn't pay them any mind. She was mesmerized by the sight in front of her.

Was it even possible to kill a man with your bare hands? Professor Dolohov made it look like it could be quite easy. His large hands that normally touched Hermione with the softest caresses were veiny and red as they squeezed Rabastan Lestrange's throat tighter and tighter.

He was saying something; she could tell because his mouth was moving with purpose. But he was speaking to low and the gurgling sounds coming from the shorter man were blocking any hope of hearing what was happening. But by the way Lestranges' eyes began to widen, it couldn't have been anything good.

"Miss Lovegood," she heard her professor say, unbelievably calm.

"Yes, sir?" Her friend breathed out. She didn't look even slightly disturbed by the sight in front of her. It was as though watching a grown man choke the life out of another were a daily occurrence to her.

"Please take Miss Granger to the stairwell and wait for me there. I will only be a moment." His voice was disturbingly to the point. But Hermione didn't dwell too much on it. She secretly hoped that he was about to do exactly what he seemed to be edging towards.

It wouldn't be a pity for that vile man to die.

She let Luna help her off of the floor and accepted the younger girl's hand as she cheerily led her back down the hallway in the direction they had previously come from. They waited by the stairwell for what seemed like hours to Hermione but was probably only a few minutes in real time.

A shadow caught their attention as it grew closer and closer. But it was their professor, unharmed, and still looking completely unaffected. Had he killed Lestrange? She knew he had killed others before but that was his past. Had he done so again though? For her?

Why did the thought of him murdering someone for her send a shooting spasm straight to her gut? Did she actually like the idea of someone dying at the hands of the wizard who was dead set on protecting her?

 _… Yes._

"Are you alright?" His voice had dropped an octave into what she called his 'worrying tone.' She smiled slightly and nodded her head. Relief covered his features as he looked away and up the moving staircases.

"There are Death Eaters scattered around the castle. Most are in or around the Great Hall though. The Order is there as well."

"Will we join them professor?" Luna asked happily. Professor Dolohov regarded her warmly before nodding.

"Yes, Miss Lovegood. We'll head to the Great Hall and see what's become of the situation."

And with that, he was leading them back up through the castle towards the main level. Hermione stayed close to his left side while Luna stayed close to her, leaving their professor's wand arm free should he need to use it.

They made it to the hallway outside the entrance to the hall when a figure burst through the doors. It was a large, burly looking wizard with blonde hair. Hermione thought he seemed oddly familiar. Like she had seen him somewhere before. The man looked straight up and met the eyes of her professor before a strange sense of relief fell across his face.

"Dolohov!" The man called, beginning to walk closer to them. Hermione looked up and saw the fearsome man eye the other with distaste before he raised his wand and shot a well-placed stunning spell straight to the bulky man's chest.

As he flew backwards and into the stone wall across the way, more people filed out of the Great Hall. Order members, she saw. Sirius was the first she recognized as his black curls flew back and forth as he looked between her professor and the Death Eater that had just been thrown into the wall.

"Wow. Good shot, Dolohov," he remarked pleasantly. Her professor rolled his eyes as he led them closer to the gathered group consisting of professors and Order members.

"What'd Rowle ever do to you?" Tonks teased as they stood in front of them. Rowle… Hermione remembered the name. He had graduated with Tonks, she remembered the woman telling her about him once. But she barely remembered anything past that point.

"Plenty," her professor returned bitingly. No one questioned it. Besides being a Death Eater, Rowle had also been a Slytherin and a former student of her professor's. He probably had more than enough incentive to not like the guy.

"We should go find Dumbledore. Let him know that all the Death Eaters have either fled or been subdued," Kingsley announced suddenly, giving them all incentive to do something. But as they were about to break apart, a chilling voice rang out.

"Dumbledore's dead."

Hermione felt Professor Dolohov spin around and lock eyes with her best friend. He stood sullenly next to Remus and Ron. Sirius gaped at him as the others also expressed different forms of disbelief.

"What…?" She heard the man next to her ask, his low voice filled with confusion.

"He's dead," Harry repeated. "Snape killed him."

" _That bastard_!" They could hear Sirius shout as he began ranting and raving about how he knew it. How he knew the 'slimy bastard couldn't be trusted.' Hermione just felt her heart drop. With the Headmaster gone… What would happen now? What would they do?

She looked up at the wizard next to her but he had completely closed off his expression, looking every inch the cold and mysterious man she met six years ago when she first walked into his classroom. And she didn't like the reversion one bit.

What did this mean? For her, for him, for everyone?

Huddling closer into his side, Hermione closed herself off to the conversations happening around her. She just kept her arm looped with the only man who could make her feel completely safe. The only one who could give her the comfort she so desperately desired in this moment of devastation.

And hopefully, she could give just a little bit back.

* * *

The Great Hall was in pieces.

Older students were littered around, picking up any debris that they could move on their own. Order members stood in huddles, conversing with each other. A solemn cloud seemed to hang over the entire castle. With their leader and figurehead gone, everyone seemed to be existing in a sort of limbo. Moving but not necessarily with purpose.

Professor McGonagall stood with Order members Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, and the Weasley patriarch, Arthur Weasley. A few students stood mixed in with them. Harry Potter was consoling Ginny Weasley while her older brother Ron stood silently next to Luna Lovegood. They were observing the surrounding rubble with forlorn faces.

Until the student's noticed that someone was missing from their little group.

"Where's Hermione?" Ginny asked uncertainly, looking around as though she might have just missed her curly haired friend. The adults looked around as well, surprised that they hadn't noticed her absence either. They figured the trio would be all together. It hadn't occurred to them that one would be missing.

"She's with Professor Dolohov," Luna answered dreamily, staring off into the corner of the room. No one bothered following her gaze though and instead looked for the tall, imposing figure they would be able to identify quickly.

He was a yard or so from them, charming a broken table back together. But they also noticed the young girl practically glued to his side. She merely watched him fix the room with an unreadable face. The group eyed them in bewilderment until the Ravenclaw spoke up again.

"I think Hermione feels safe with him. He did protect her from Rabastan Lestrange. And when they're together, the Wrackspurts are away from them. Far, far away. It's much better this way," she amended. After sharing a few puzzled looks, the adults figured that it Hermione felt safer around the intimidating man, then they wouldn't intrude on that. Especially if she had been attacked.

However, a few minutes later, the dark form of the Theory Professor had entrenched in the group's circle. All of their eyes went to his with a few flicking down to the miserable looking girl next to him.

"Miss Weasley, could you take Miss Granger back to Gryffindor Tower?" The redhead nodded dutifully as his words and moved as to reach for her friend but the brunette had reared away and looked up in confusion.

"What?" She asked.

The older wizard didn't even look at her as he said, "You've had a tiring day. It's time for you to go get some rest."

Hermione Granger struggled against her friends as they pulled her off of their professor and towards the double doors of the hall. "B-But… What about you?" She called.

"I'll be fine, Miss Granger." But he still wouldn't look at her, much to the concern of the remaining adults.

"Come on Hermione, Luna's got permission to stay with us too. We'll all be together tonight," Ginny said in a soothing voice, trying to calm her friend. The two others in the trio tried to comfort their friend as well but the girl was inconsolable without the dangerous man avoiding her eye.

"Professor!" They heard her call out as she was half carried from the Great Hall by the Weasley siblings. The adults standing around looked back to the man who stood stoically with a blank expression on his face. When the echo of the girl's cries could no longer be heard, the dark wizard grumbled out,

"Is she gone?" Sirius nodded his head slowly, confirming that she was.

As soon as he did, the imposing wizard hissed in pain as he gripped his left forearm, almost doubling over in the process. His breathing became labored as he struggled to right himself. The surrounding Order members looked on in horror. They had never seen what happens when a Death Eater was called.

"Antonin…" McGonagall expressed in concern for the man. He lurched forward and grabbed the older witch by her shoulders, a crazed look in his eye.

"I-I won't be back… Minerva. I won't be back," he managed to grit out. The others around them looked on in fear as his words sunk in. Would he be… killed?

"Antonin-" McGonagall started, only to be cut off by the man clutching her tightly.

"Even if he doesn't kill me; And there's only a small chance that he won't… Even if he doesn't, with the Headmaster _... gone_ … I won't be back here. He will see nothing holding me here anymore. I will no longer be a professor…"

"I understand, my boy," the woman spoke sadly, eyeing her former student who usually held himself with such power and pride, reduced to fear and uncertainty.

"I need you to know something. Before I go there, I need someone to know this," he leaned closer and proceeded to whisper something into the woman's ear that no one else around them could hear. As he pulled away, McGonagall looked in absolute shock before Antonin turned his wand on her, casting a bright, white charm in her face.

"You'll know if and when I die. The memory of what I just said to you will come back and you'll know," he rasped in a broken voice. The weathered witch grasped the man's cheeks between her hands.

"Be safe, Antonin."

He didn't say anything but he didn't have to. It was in the fates' hands now; whether he lived or died. As he turned to leave, another voice from the group spoke up.

"The Burrow," Arthur Weasley said, watching the other wizard with determination. "When you're done, come to the Burrow. You'll always be welcomed there."

With a grateful look on his face, Antonin Dolohov looked at the faces of those he could tentatively call friends and colleagues. Those he was proud to have known in the ways that he did. Those who had somehow managed to care about his livelihood along the way.

And with one final thought dedicated to a tiny witch who had been dragged off earlier, he turned from the hall and ran.

To death, to hell, or to forces unknown.

He could only hope to live through the night.


	11. Year ? - Part One

**_Year ? – Part One – The Burrow_**

* * *

It was like the world had stopped spinning.

She had been dragged up to Gryffindor Tower and that was the last she had seen of him. Granted, it had only been seventy-two hours but _he hadn't looked at her._ She knew something was wrong when he suddenly tensed up but she thought that maybe he was just upset over the Headmaster's death and it hadn't really hit him until that moment.

But then he hadn't looked at her.

He never did that. Even when something was difficult for him to say, he faced her head-on. It was just the kind of man that he was. Something had to seriously be wrong for him to avoid her searching eyes. Then it had hit her.

He had been summoned. He had attacked other Death Eaters, he hadn't left with them, and with Snape there as a traitor to the Order… She had known instantly why he had reacted the way he had. He thought he was about to walk into his death. And she hadn't been able to handle that. She sobbed the entire way to the Tower; hoping that he would come running down the corridor to comfort her. To tell her that she was wrong and that he really was just exhausted.

He hadn't though. And now he was missing.

The adults at the Burrow were confident he wasn't dead. Something about Professor McGonagall that Hermione hadn't understood. But they were insistent that he was alive.

She figured he must be alive as well. Wouldn't she know if he were gone? Surely she would have some sort of reaction to it? Their magic was very in tune with one another, so she should feel slightly different should he… _die_ … Not that she was willing to test it, of course. But at least she kept the secure knowledge that he _wasn't_ dead.

Which still left other unsavory fates but she didn't want to dwell too much on those. After a particularly nasty nightmare of her professor being tortured, she had been woken up by a frantic Sirius. He had stayed with her, petting her hair and letting her know that it was okay to have nightmares. She knew he had plenty of his own from being in Azkaban for so long.

He had tried asking her what they were about, thinking that saying them out loud would make her feel better but she couldn't do it. Either because it was too close to reality or because she didn't want him to know how she felt for her wizard. Regardless, she had only shaken her head and he had understood. They went into the kitchen and made tea and had stayed up together for the rest of the night.

She hadn't even attempted to sleep since.

Having his fate remain unknown kept her active mind in even more of a frenzied state. She could barely concentrate on anything else. She couldn't sleep. She didn't know what to do except hold out hope that he would walk through the door of the Burrow soon.

The rest of the Order was moving in between the Burrow and Grimmauld Place. After the Headmaster's death, Kingsley was instated as the new Secret Keeper and the ancestral home could continue being used, much to Sirius' displeasure. He tried to spend more time at the Burrow since Harry was still at the Dursley's for the beginning of the summer. But he went back occasionally because that was where Remus and Tonks were now living.

They were getting married soon. A small, quiet affair the witch had told her, but she was just glad that the wizard Tonks loved had finally admitted he felt the same.

Hermione smiled bitterly from her spot on the worn couch as she rubbed her eyes to prevent from crying. _It must be nice_ , she thought sadly. Looking around the room, she saw that the Weasley's were all in the process of getting ready for bed. It was eleven after all. But Hermione knew sleep would elude her yet again tonight, so she stayed at her spot on the sofa.

Kingsley and Moody were preparing to leave. They had just come to talk to Mr. Weasley for a few minutes. About what, Hermione couldn't say that she actually cared. She'd been feeling a lot like that actually. Not caring about anything that didn't have to do with her professor's whereabouts or wellbeing.

The only news about him remained that he was alive.

As she felt the corner of her eyes begin to prickle, an obscenely loud cracking sound came from outside the door to the Burrow. Startled, Hermione had jumped to her feet as the others all brandished their wands and pointed it at the door, prepared for a fight if need be.

The door swung open and a large, dark figure slumped against the wood paneling in the opening. Hermione wanted to cry out at the sight of Professor Dolohov, but then she just wanted to sob in horror.

He was covered in blood.

The wizard was wobbling from his position against the doorway and just as Hermione thought he was about to fall, the twins rushed forward to grab him, hauling him back to his feet. Though awkward because tall as the twins were, her professor was still taller, they managed to half guide, half drag him to the couch Hermione had just vacated.

He collapsed onto it and looked up at a stunned Kingsley and furious Moody. Hermione put her hands over her mouth as she saw the bruises formed on his skin and the blood trickling from various cuts, his nose, and his mouth.

"Grimmauld Place…" he rasped out, more blood pooling from his mouth as he managed to force out the words. "One… hour…" The Aurors nodded their heads and as soon as they did, Professor Dolohov closed his eyes, his body going lax.

The men rushed from the room, presumably to head to Grimmauld to warn the others, leaving only Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley. The matriarch immediately began whizzing around the space, looking for potions and other medical supplies.

Ginny was helping her, leaving Hermione to face the unconscious man. He was in a collapsed, sitting position on the couch so Hermione grabbed his hands, that were still familiarly warm, and pulled him until he went into a horizontal state on the couch. Once that was done, Ginny arrived with the first pain potion. She eyed the man warily, probably wondering how they would get him to drink it since he was out.

Taking the initiative, Hermione lifted her professor's head just enough so that she could sit in the space, before gently lowering him so that his head was in her lap comfortably. Taking the potion from her redheaded friend, she tugged at the wizard's jaw until she got it opened just enough to begin pouring the potion. She massaged his neck and watched as the liquid went down so it could take effect.

She was handed several more potions that she began giving to the unconscious man as Mrs. Weasley waved her wand over his form. She 'tsked' motherly as she looked at what Hermione assumed was his vitals.

"Broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, shattered ankle, broken nose..." Hermione flinched at each injury listed. What had happened to him? "But no magical afflictions."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. So he hadn't been cursed or tortured. Just… beaten. A shiver went through her as she continued forcing potions down his throat. When the last vial was empty, Mrs. Weasley set to fixing his ribs.

"It's easier to do while he's still unconscious," she explained. "The process is quite painful." She felt around her professor's chest for a moment before issuing the spell. Hermione and Ginny could both hear the audible snapping sound as the rib was fixed. She repeated the process four times before she was confident that that was all.

"Hermione, dear. Do you think you could handle his nose while I focus on this ankle?" She nodded slightly and watched as the matron went to work on the damaged limb. Taking out her wand, she looked at his slightly crooked nose, picturing how it should usually appear before waving her wand and announcing, " _Episkey._ " His nose straightened with a crunch and Hermione lowered her wand as she saw that his face still remained motionless. Brushing back the hair from his eyes, she refocused on the bruises and cuts she saw, healing what she could.

Ginny began applying bruise paste and Mrs. Weasley continued with the shattered ankle while Hermione healed whatever cuts she could visibly see. Together, they mended the man. Looking up at the clock, she saw that it was half past twelve. Professor Dolohov said that something was happening at twelve. Were the adults still stuck in the crossfire?

Just as the thought hit her, cracks of Apparation sounded from outside and the Burrow became full of Order members. Sirius took one look at Professor Dolohov before collapsing into a chair across from Hermione. He met her confused gaze and cracked a small smile.

"Bastard saved our hides. Death Eaters appeared around the building exactly at midnight. Snape must have found a way around the Fidelius Charm. We burned all the documents that we could and hid across the street just as they began their attack. Moody wanted to see if Dolohov was telling the truth. And he was…"

Hermione continued to run her fingers through the unconscious man's hair, entirely thankful that he cared enough about the rest of the Order to save their lives as well. He was injured and made his way here to warn them anyways. Sirius watched Hermione pamper the wizard with a grin on his face. She raised an eyebrow at him and he inclined his chin to her professor.

"Best do that now while he's out. He'd probably throw a fit if you were doing that while he was awake." Hermione felt the urge to correct him. To tell him that if he was awake and they were alone, she'd be smothering him in kisses that he would readily accept and return with fervor. But she only managed a weak smile at the grinning wizard.

She wished that he was awake. She wanted to know what happened to him. She wanted to make it better. She wanted to finally sleep with him securing wrapped around her.

Hermione just wished they could be safe for a little while longer.

* * *

 _… Heavenly…_

It was his first thought upon waking. He was surrounded by a light, carefree vanilla scent intermingled with the sensations he remembered as a child. Bacon sizzling on a stove, warmth from an active living area, voices from various people walking about.

There was a soft surface underneath of his head and something securely wrapped in his hair. He didn't want to open his eyes, sure that if he did, he'd be somewhere foreign. Heaven, paradise, whatever people went to.

But then he realized that he wouldn't be in that sort of place anyways. No matter what he did in his life, he would never be completely redeemed of those few years where he did nothing but kill and torture innocent life. When he created some of the darkest spells imaginable that are still used to this day to harm others.

So, he opened his eyes and was met with the sleeping face of his little Gryffindor. A small smile sat on his face as he gazed up at her. He should have known it was her by the scent alone. Not many other women smelled like vanilla and strawberries. It was purely her; feminine and sweet.

The sound of plates clinking got his attention and hers as well because she practically jumped from her spot on the couch. Her hand in his hair squeezed for a moment; not tight enough to cause him pain, but just enough for him to realize that he _really_ liked having her pull his hair.

 _Now wasn't the time for an erection Dolohov…_

Steering his thoughts away from the unsavory, he watched her look up into the kitchen. She hadn't even noticed that he was awake yet. A frown marred his face as he gave her a less than impressed stare. When she finally did look down, she audibly gasped and put one of her hands on his shoulder.

"Merlin professor, don't do that," she breathed out, causing him to arch a brow.

"Don't wake up?" He questioned, causing a smile to appear on her face. His heart clenched slightly at the appearance of it. The familiarity of it. He wasn't dead, he could continue seeing that expression for a while longer.

"Don't scare me like that," she clarified. He exhaled harshly before attempting to sit up, instantly regretting that decision.

"Antonin Dolohov! You stay where you are on that couch!" He wasn't about to question the Weasley matriarch and swiftly leaned back down, putting his head on his girl's thigh. His chest was throbbing in annoyance at him for forgetting that he'd had his arse handed to him yesterday evening. It was only because he hadn't been allowed to fight back.

Otherwise he probably would have killed Rowle.

Keeping his breathing even, he let himself relax a bit, trying to negate the fact he had just put unnecessary strain on his previously cracked ribs. Despite being healed, they would still be sore for a few days. He felt fingers comb through his hair and looked up to meet the worried eyes of his witch.

"I'm alright, Miss Granger. Just forgot for a moment," he told her, trying to ease her nervousness. It worked, seeing as she huffed out a laugh before continuing her ministrations on him. It felt delightful and he was more than willing to become putty in her capable hands. Especially when her fingernails would scratch his scalp just right.

He had closed his eyes at some point and wasn't aware that more people had joined them in the room until he heard the familiar voice of Black teasingly ask him, "Comfy Dolohov?"

"Quite," was the only reply the mutt was getting. Talking took away the pleasure from feeling Hermione's petite fingers run through his hair. She brushed back the hair that had fallen onto his forehead and paused for a moment, presumably to check to see if all his cuts and bruises had healed. He hadn't categorized them all, being in such a rush, but he'd make sure to return the favor to Rowle one day.

 _Before he ended his good for nothing life._

"Alright Dolohov, we know you're awake now. Get to talking." Oh good. Just who he wanted to bloody wake up to. The gruff voice of Mad-Eye Moody was grating to his ears but really, he had never heard the man in a scenario where he'd appreciate him anyways.

Opening his eyes again, he saw the glare Hermione was giving the Auror and choked on a laugh, covering it up as a couch that it pained him to do. Looks like she didn't like Moody any more than he did.

Turning his head slightly, he took in the tense forms of the three Aurors, Lupin, and Black. The Weasley adults were all settled at the table in the kitchen with eyes on him as well. Taking a deep breath, he mentally prepared himself before just saying it.

"When I left Hogwarts three nights ago, I was certain I would be killed or tortured until I was dead. There was nothing stopping anyone who had seen me from informing the Dark Lord. But the only person who came forward was Rowle."

"But you weren't killed for that?" Kingsley asked him.

"I only stunned Rowle. The Dark Lord took that into consideration, along with my lack of knowledge of the plans and role as a 'spy.' Those factors and my knowledge of charms were the only reasons I remained alive. But first I had to… prove myself. The Dark Lord wanted no hint of disloyalty from me so he issued me a task that I had to complete before I was allowed to leave with my life."

"What sort of task?" Moody questioned in a threatening voice.

Antonin closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. _Just tell them, it saves them from problems in the future._ "I was ordered to create a spell. A tracking spell to be more precise."

At their confusion, he continued, "He calls it the Taboo. He always wanted his name to be feared and now I've made certain that it will be." He hadn't been able to say no. "Anyone who speaks the Dark Lord's name will instantly be tracked through the Death Eaters and apprehended for suspected resistance affiliation."

"You created that in three days?" Lupin asked, a slight touch of awe in his voice. Along with surprise. Did no one seriously believe that he could be that skilled in Charms? He had gotten the highest NEWT scores in a century in that subject alone.

"Two," he clarified. "The rest of the time was spent casting it on every single marked Death Eater."

"Then what happened to you?" He heard Molly ask him from her spot in the kitchen.

His jaw clenched in remembrance. "Rowle was allowed an hour alone with me to compensate for my _mistake_ at Hogwarts. He wasn't allowed to use magic and I had been bound."

"But that guy is built like a troll!" Tonks added after he finished. Antonin could not help but agree with her. Thorfinn Rowle resembled a troll in many ways, especially his ability to think. He really should have been in Gryffindor with his tendency to act first.

And he never shut up.

"What about Snape? How did he get through the Fidelius Charm? We switched to Kings and everything," Sirius asked as the room began to grow quiet.

"He took advantage of the fact that after Secret Keepers switch, the spell's potency takes 24 hours to synch with the new Keeper's magical energy. It's a theory that turns out to be quite factual," he explained.

"Then why did they wait to attack?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Despite knowing the address, the Fidelius Charm is still a highly protected charm and the other wards around the building were still in effect as well. Seeing as both myself and Avery were busy working on the Taboo, we weren't available to get rid of the wards in a timely fashion. When I was finished with remarking the last recruit, I learned that they were close to being finished with the curse breaking. I only guessed an hour, but I had been right."

"You and Avery are their best curse breakers?" Tonks asked, arching her brow in surprise.

"We're both the most adept at charms. Myself more so than Avery, but he's a quick study and has the magical ability necessary to perform some of the more complicated charms."

"That's handy information to have," Tonks added, looking to her elders as she did. They all seemed to agree with her.

"What about Snape? What else did he tell V… You-Know-Who?" Sirius asked, sitting himself in the seat in front of Hermione. This was the part Antonin had worried about. Would they believe him if he told them?

"Very little," he conceded. Deciding it was best to just tell them what he knew. And he was right, they didn't believe him.

"That's not possible!"

"He knew too much."

"What did he actually tell him?"

Antonin waited for the voices to quiet down, and when they finally did, he explained, "The location of headquarters, names of certain Order members, and the date you're moving Potter were the only information I know of that he had told them. He didn't reveal my position or the location of where Potter actually is at the moment. Nor any secret plans that we know of."

"Is he keeping the information to blackmail us with?" Kingsley questioned, looking to Antonin for answers. Surprisingly enough.

"I don't know. It's plausible, he is still a Slytherin and he'll want to make it out of this war alive just as any one of us would. He could be holding back information to endear himself to the Order again, or he could be under an oath of some sort. All I know is what he's already told the Dark Lord."

The room went a bit silent after that. Most seemed to be letting the information sink in, wondering their options, thinking up solutions. Antonin wasn't one of them. He was just glad to be alive and sitting next to his little Gryffindor. It was much, much more than he thought he would have at this point.

"What do we do about headquarters now?" The youngest Weasley's voice finally asked, breaking the uncomfortable, tense silence. And she had a point; they couldn't all stay at the Burrow. There wasn't nearly enough room. And it certainly wasn't that secure.

"That's a good question. Where do we go from here? Grimmauld Place wasn't even ideal but that was our only option at the time. Now that the Death Eaters know where it is, we have nothing left." Kingsley announced to the group. Most knew that if they had had other options, Grimmauld Place would have been scrapped. Too much dark magic and bad memories for those in the Order.

Antonin hadn't had a problem with it, but he could understand why those in the organization did.

"We could continue using the Burrow…" Arthur offered but most of the others shook their heads.

"We can't inconvenience you and your family. Nor put them at such a risk. We need somewhere the Death Eaters don't know about. Somewhere with enough room for the majority of the Order to hideout. And wards, plenty of wards along with a Fidelius," the dark skinned man mused to himself, thinking the idea completely unrealistic and hopeless.

Well, it would have been. But somewhere along the lines Antonin Dolohov had been reduced to a bleeding heart. Looking up at the crestfallen face of his little Gryffindor, that solidified his decision. And so he opened his unusually big mouth and only hoped he didn't come to regret this later.

"I know of such a place."

All eyes went to him and he mentally cursed himself for doing this. But the hope he could see in Hermione's eyes only egged him on.

"My family purchased an estate upon arrival in England. After my father died, the house and all its wards transferred to me, his heir."

"Why are we just now hearing about this?" Moody growled at him. _Maybe because I don't want you in the bloody house I grew up in._ Ignoring the Auror's tone of voice, he answered him instead.

"It's already under the Fidelius Charm. With myself as Secret Keeper."

"But why? What do you have in the house that's so important?" He didn't answer Black. If they didn't agree to use what he's offered, then he was certainly not telling them. He's kept the secret to himself for nearly twenty years. And much as he'd prefer to keep it that way, if they're going to be using the estate as their new headquarters then they'll certainly find out.

Antonin just prayed he was ready for that.

"We'd have to go to the estate and check it out for ourselves," Tonks piped. The others all exchanged wary glances before several began nodding their heads in agreement. _Great…_ He closed his eyes and felt Hermione's hand begin to stroke his hair once more. It calmed him slightly but even that couldn't shake the nervousness sitting in his gut.

"Can we go now?" Lupin asked. _Might as well get it over with_ , Antonin thought darkly. There wasn't any use hiding it now that they were seriously considering using the home.

"Let me give Antonin a few potions before he tries apparating," Molly huffed out, obviously upset that everyone was insisting on going right this very second. He shared her sentiments, but the longer he put this off, the worse it'll be. For everyone.

As he downed the potions he was handed, he let them settle for a few moments before attempting to stand up yet again. The ache was still there and a faint pinching sensation, but it wasn't impossible for him to get up. That and the small hands that were helping him to stay steady.

"Alright Dolohov. Kingsley, Tonks, Lupin, and Black will be going with you. They'll inspect the wards and property and decide if we should take the risk of using the building as a new headquarters," Moody angrily explained to him. He didn't need to be told this but he accepted that it would happen regardless of his wishes. The older man was just stuck in his ways. Antonin guessed.

"I'm going too," he heard a stubborn voice announce from next to him. The adults sent her questioning looks and even he had to look down at her in befuddlement. Why was she insisting on going as well?

"Someone needs to watch Professor Dolohov. He's still injured," she announced. Antonin had to stifle his urge to smile. She'd never give up on trying to protect him and loathe as he was to admit it, he was somewhat pleased with her attempts. It showed just how much she cared about him. And the thought of that only served to excite him.

"Let Hermione go," Sirius suddenly said, interrupting whatever a red faced Moody was about to issue. "She's smart enough to handle her own. Besides, she's eighteen. We can't really stop her, now can we?"

No one argued with him. Antonin certainly wasn't. This was one battle that he didn't really want to win. If they used his home as headquarters she'd know sooner or later. It would be inevitable. And the thought of her knowing… He was strangely okay with that thought.

"Now that that's settled. Where to?" Tonks asked, looking to him for answers. Antonin went to the four adults accompanying him and whispered the location into their ears before walking back to Hermione and leaning close to her, breathing in the scent that was uniquely hers.

"Antonin Dolohov lives at 34 West Street, Castle Combe, Wiltshire."

She smiled up at him as he pulled away and he felt the weight on his chest seemingly evaporate. Why did merely telling her where he lived seem so liberating? Would there ever come a time when he could do something normal without having such strong reactions to her?

Somehow he doubted it.

The six of them exited the Burrow and apparated to the secret location of his childhood home. The sight of it brought familiar memories rushing back to him. The first time he ever flew on a broomstick, doing his first bout of accidental magic to reach apples in the tree outside of the home, sitting on the front porch at any time of day and absorbing book after book. It was his second favorite place to sit, next to the expansive library.

Heaving a sigh, he continued through the yard until he reached the first few layers of wards. He allowed the Aurors to inspect them before issuing a pass for them to move freely through them. The four Order members discussed the protections amongst themselves. Antonin could care less about what. He knew each and every enchantment that surrounded the Victorian style home. He put most of them there himself.

Once they were on the porch, he unlocked the door and stepped inside, relishing in the fresh smell that he could only ever associate with the house. The smell of warmth, fire, and spice. It was all he ever knew growing up. And it still remained one of his favorite scents. Next to vanilla and strawberries, that is.

It looked exactly like he remembered as well, having been here only a few months prior. The winding staircase being the first thing you see when you walk in. A long hallway led past it to the kitchen, dining, sitting areas, and study. Up the staircase led to bedrooms, bathrooms, and the library.

"Wow…" The currently pink haired Auror exclaimed. "Much nicer than I expected. Homier, really."

"Exactly… Grimmauld Place looked even worse when we first opened it; if you can believe that. Mostly because it hadn't been lived in for years. But this place… It looks move in ready," Black admonished.

"Do you stay here often, Antonin?" Lupin asked him. "Because honestly, this place appears inhabited."

Just as he said it, the sound of soft footfalls echoed around them. The four Order members jumped and went straight for their wands. But Antonin only looked up as the door to the sitting room opened and a figure stepped out into the dimly lit hallway.

"That's because it is inhabited," he murmured, meeting eyes the same color as his own.

"Antonin?"

 _"Ya doma, mama."_

* * *

 _Ya doma - I'm home_


	12. Year ? - Part Two

_Tishina, rebenok – Hush, child_

 _moya lyubov' – My love_

 **Year ? – Part Two – Dolohov Estate**

* * *

Hermione could only gape, along with the four others with them.

Had Professor Dolohov really just call that woman his mother? She barely looked anything like him! The woman standing at the end of the hallway looked shorter than Hermione with light blonde hair that fell in long, lazy curls. Her nose was buttoned, her skin much paler, with a more rounded face. But those eyes… They looked almost as bottomless as she had found her professor's upon first meeting.

His mother was the very definition of petite, it seemed. Short, thin, soft looking. This was the amazing woman that he had praised so highly? Despite her delicate appearance, Hermione could actually see how her looks could be deceiving in this moment. Those eyes of hers held an intensity that she had only ever seen with one man. She held power that no one would probably expect from her. Much like they had found out with Fleur Delacour.

"Did you… Did you just call her _mama_?" Sirius asked, disbelief coating his rough voice, as he looked from the ferocious, dark wizard to the tiny, blonde lady he had just referred to as his mother. Hermione could understand why the hamster wheel inside the Animagus' mind was probably going full speed.

"I did," was the terse reply he received.

"This is your mother, Antonin?" Remus followed, surprise and shock covering his scarred features.

"It is," he stretched out an arm and extended it in the direction of the women. "Masha Dolohov, my mother." Looking pointedly at the two, he then moved his arm to his present company and pointed at each as he spoke their names. "Aurors, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks. Previous Defense Professor, Remus Lupin. Resident pain in my arse, Sirius Black."

He looked down at Hermione with a brief flicker of affection before continuing, "And my brightest student, Hermione Granger."

She soared at his words. She knew he appreciated her as a student but his brightest? Surely he meant it. She wished he were able to say more but having that compliment alone come from in as an introduction was more than she could ask for. It still meant that she was special, that he thought highly of her.

Looking back towards his mother, she noticed the naturally kind smile the woman was sporting. "It's a pleasure to meet you all," her voice had a distinct accent that resembled her professor's voice after he spoke fluent Russian for a bit. Rare as it was, the accent suited him. As it did with this woman.

"It's… good to meet you as well, Madame Dolohov," Kingsley said slowly, still trying to process the information he's been provided as everyone else was.

"I take it from the surprise on your faces that my son had not mentioned that he hides me here?" The woman tilted her head in a very familiar way as she walked closer to the group; her steps flowing with a subtle grace to them.

"We didn't even know about this place until a few minutes ago," Tonks added, watching the older woman with a bright smile on her face. "The professor here is a very secretive man."

Masha Dolohov laughed cheerfully at the metamorphmagus' words, "Oh that he is. Such a serious boy, too worried about how others will perceive him." She stopped in front of the large form of her professor and affectionately patted his chest, "But he's perfect the way he is."

" _Mama…_ " Hermione could see the embarrassment on the man's face and found it incredibly adorable. His cheeks were tinted, his eyes had averted from everyone else's and he was wringing his hands awkwardly. She almost preferred him like this.

" _Tishina, rebenok_ ," the woman spoke sweetly and her professor instantly deflated, accepting whatever he had been told. By the tone, Hermione assumed she had told her son to basically shut up. She wished he would listen to her that well…

"I stay here for my own protection. Antonin merely assures that I remain safe," Hermione was fascinated by the way she spoke her son's name. Most say it An-ton- _in_ while she adds an accent to make it An-ton- _yin._ It sounded more natural with his already Russian name.

"What sort of protection do you need?" Remus asked politely, looking openly curious about what goes on with the family. Hermione found herself filled to the rim with questions as well. She wanted to know as much as she could about her professor anyways.

"My late husband openly sided with Tom Riddle in the first war," she said, shocking the Order members with her free use of Voldemort's birth name. But her voice took a surprising dip as she spoke bitterly, "He ordered our only son to join a group of fanatics that almost imprisoned and destroyed him."

She took a deep breath before continuing, "But after Riddle fell, my husband pulled us from society. We were looked down upon, ostracized because of our Russian origins. When Vladimir realized that there was nothing to salvage the mistake he had made, he debated on just returning back to our home country. But I refused."

Mrs. Dolohov looked up at her son lovingly, "My boy was still here. I wasn't leaving him on his own, not after what he had to endure." Hermione's heart went out to the woman. She fully understood what it was like to want to stick by this wonderful man.

"My husband passed away twelve years ago, leaving the estate, inheritance, and possessions to Antonin. But the boy is too sweet for his own good, and allowed me to remain here, hidden away. And now that Riddle has returned, he has been even more concerned about my wellbeing. He does not want me to be used against him should he make a mistake."

She took ahold of her son's hand and rubbed it slightly as she asked, "Now that I've explained my situation, perhaps you can tell me yours?"

"We're with the Order of the Phoenix, ma'am," Sirius started. "A secret organization that Dumbledore started during the first war. We're trying to beat Vol-" Her professor hissed lowly, startling Sirius. "Sorry, sorry. You-Know-Who. We're trying to destroy him."

"I see… And my son has brought you here because…?" But the question was not directed at the Animagus. Instead the brunt of the woman's stare was being held by an uncomfortable looking Professor Dolohov.

The usually intimidating wizard mumbled out something ineligible but Mrs. Dolohov leveled an identical unamused look at her son that he often sported himself, "Use your words, _Toyin_."

"They lost their headquarters to Death Eaters last night… I offered the estate as their new location," he grumbled out more audibly than before. He made it sound like he was being forced to eat broken glass than just offering up his home for the Order's use, causing a smirk to cross Hermione's face.

"My darling boy," his mother cooed as she brushed imaginary lint off of his rumpled robes. Hermione had removed most of the blood stains but they still looked well worn. Her professor looked quite sour as he was pampered by her, until she abruptly grabbed the front of his robes and yanked him down to her eye level. Her professor went with a slight gagging sound before staring in confusion at his mom.

"What is that?" She spoke harshly, indicating one of the many bruises he had accumulated that Ginny must have missed, hidden at the juncture between her professor's jaw and ear.

"A bruise," was the wizard's quiet reply. The room with deathly quiet as the static of magic crackled around them. Obviously coming from the tiny woman in front of them. Sirius had even shuffled back a bit from beside her professor to avoid being in direct contact with her.

"This wasn't an accident." She didn't ask it, she said it. She knew.

Professor Dolohov shook his head, "I made a mistake…"

"You did no such thing," his mother hissed, suddenly reminding Hermione of where her professor's intimidation came from. "This has been and always will be your father's fault. Bless that man's still heart because if he wasn't already dead I would have killed him myself."

His mother cupped her son's cheeks gently and starred into his identical eyes. "You deserve happiness, _moya lyubov'_. You deserved a future, a chance to be your own man. And your father ruined that for you." She went silent for a moment before smiling through a few tears in her eyes, "But I suppose it's better late than never."

Hermione smiled at the pair. Her professor held such tenderness for his mother that she might have actually been jealous if it had been any other woman. But a man's mother is still important to him. Especially her professor's. This was the woman who told him he wasn't a murderer. The one who tried to save him. The one who cared before Hermione did.

Her professor had been right. His mother truly was an amazing woman.

"So it's… alright if we use your home as our new safe house?" Tonks asked after a moment, allowing the two to have their own moment.

Mrs. Dolohov smiled brightly as she released her son and turned to face the rest of them. "Why, of course! It belongs to _Toyin_ anyways, but I'm sure he'd want my permission as well. Forty years hasn't made him forget the respect his mama deserves."

Hermione could hear her professor groan slightly and turned to look at him with a smile when she realized that he hadn't made a sound showcasing his annoyance. He had a bit of sweat beading around his brow and he was starting to look a bit pale.

"Mrs. Dolohov?" Hermione asked quickly, gaining the surprised woman's attention. "Is there somewhere that Professor Dolohov could sit and rest? He still hasn't fully recovered…"

"Oh yes! Let me escort you to the sitting room. I will show you around the house." She waved her hand towards the door she had previously exited and ushered them forward into the sitting room. It was a tastefully decorated room that looked in tune with the running Victorian style.

Her professor collapsed onto the closest settee and leaned his head against the back of it, inhaling and exhaling raggedly. Hermione stood in the doorway next to his still mother who was watching him with an equal amount of concern in her eyes.

But the silence was permeated by the low, more feminine voice asking her, "What happened to him?"

Looking up at the older woman, Hermione grimaced slightly before answering, "He was assaulted by another Death Eater. When they stormed the castle and killed our Headmaster, Professor Dolohov fought against them to save his students. He originally thought he would be killed for it…"

Her eyes prickled as she looked back to the unaware man still trying to control his breathing and the pain that must still be wracking his body. He had thought he would die for trying to protect her…

"But he was only punished instead?" She heard the woman bitterly ask. Hermione nodded her head slightly and turned to see the anger in the woman's eyes.

"He's right to hide me here. I would tear everyone who has ever hurt him down until only dust remained."

"He just wants to protect you. He's a good man," Hermione murmured, more to herself. But Masha Dolohov smiled gratefully at her and Hermione could see it. The family resemblance. A hint of her professor in that dimpled smile.

"You see it as well then?" She was asked.

And without hesitation, Hermione answered, "Oh yes. I've known Professor Dolohov was a good man since I was a first year. He's just often… misunderstood."

"You make me sound like a Thestral, Miss Granger," came the rough voice from in front of them. Hermione stifled a giggle with her mouth before replying.

"It's a good comparison, sir."

He breathed out a laugh of his own before pulling his head up to look at the two of them. "I do hope you haven't been filling my student's head with nonsense about me _mama_."

The older witch waved her hand flippantly at him, "Nothing too personal. But… Now that you've mentioned it, I do have a rather interesting story I could tell Hermione about that time you got stuck in-"

"No," she heard her professor groan in embarrassment, causing both witches in the room to grin at him. He caught their expressions and dropped his head back onto the couch again. " _Chto eto za krug_?"

" _Desyatyy_ ," came his mother's sarcastic reply.

* * *

 _Chto eto za krug - What circle of hell is this?_

 _Desyatyy - Tenth_

* * *

The rest of the Order moved in that evening.

To say they were surprised by the bubbly woman welcoming them into her home was an understatement. Hermione had never seen Moody speechless before. Mrs. Weasley had looked close to a fainting spell before her husband steered her away.

But all of them took to the Dolohov matriarch as quickly as the others had.

Professor Dolohov observed with disinterest on his face, but every once in a while Hermione would catch the telltale quip of his lip or that indent in his cheek would become more noticeable. She knew he was pleased that the Order was taking his new revelations with ease.

She stayed close by him that evening. Making sure he wasn't pushing himself, helping him up and down couches and then walking with him to the dining room. No one even seem to notice her flitting about him like a buzzing bee. And she was secretly pleased when after running to get him food, he had grabbed her wrist gently before she could head back into the kitchen and murmured to her,

"Settle down _pchelka_ … Sit down and enjoy your meal as well." She tried to control her body's reaction to him, for the sake of an audience if nothing more, but she was certain that her cheeks were tinted if not completely flushed red.

She plopped herself into the seat directly on his left and began to tuck into her meal to avoid any questioning stares that might have been directed towards her. The rest of the meal passed by with relative pleasantness. Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Dolohov seemed to be getting along splendidly, gossiping about their children and swapping various matriarchal stories.

The Order seemed calm and secure in their new location. Regardless of the fact that it belonged to Professor Dolohov. Was this the final step? She wondered. Would they all fully trust him now? Hermione certainly hoped so.

"You're spacing out again," she heard a low voice mention to her. She met the bored gaze of her professor and gave him a questioning look.

"Am I?" He nodded slightly before she followed up, "Sorry. There's just been a lot on my mind lately…"

He chuckled, "Don't apologize, Hermione. It's been a hectic few days. For all of us."

"I was worried," she blurted out, feeling her face really heat up this time at the expression on his face. He looked like a cross between surprised and pleased, his eyebrows both raised and eyes widened. Before his features softened and his pupils dilated.

"I'm sorry. That was my fault, I… I should have probably handled that better," he conceded.

Hermione leveled a mock glare at him, "You think?"

He gave her a small smile that turned into a full-fledged grin, "You already got me to apologize. Don't press your luck."

It was Hermione's turn to chuckle as she returned his smile, "But that's what I'm the best at, professor. Surely you wouldn't chastise me for improving my skills set?"

"Minx," was his snorted reply as he turned back to take a sip of his drink. Hermione watched his movements before she ended up looking straight up into the eyes of a very curious Dolohov mother.

 _Oh no…_

What was she thinking? Practically flirting with the man right in front of everyone else. Her professor didn't seem to even notice the look his mother was sending their way and Hermione lowered her eyes to the empty plate in front her. Did the woman know? Had she seen enough to put two and two together? Hermione's heart began racing but for different reasons.

As the room began to clear, she stood from her seat and attempted to leave through a different door away from Mrs. Dolohov. She hoped to put off a conversation. She hoped that she hadn't seen anything and didn't come looking for her in the first place.

But as she crossed through the kitchen into a different room, she found herself in a study. The room smelled thickly of permeated cigar smoke and was decorated with deep red oak. The desk still had papers on top of it and the shelves were stacked with books. But the real defining point of the room was a giant portrait behind the desk. The man looked almost exactly like her professor. Older, rougher around the edges, a full beard, and lighter brown eyes, but basically the same.

 _This must be his father…_

The portrait's eyes were drawn into a glare as he stared at her. It was a moving portrait, similar to the ones in the Headmaster's office and Walburga Black's in Grimmauld Place. She suspected that the man would be able to speak as well, he had just chosen not to.

"Um… excuse me sir. I'll just be leaving," she apologized quickly, but before she could turn to leave, a thick, raspy Russian accented voice called out to her.

"Who are you girl?"

"Hermione Granger, sir… I'm a student of your son's…"

"Oh yes," the man spat out. "How could I ever forget that my heir has wasted his potential on _teaching_ -"

"He wouldn't have had to if you had only left him alone, Vladimir," came a harsh voice from behind her. Whipping around, she found the cross face of Mrs. Dolohov glaring daggers at the man in the portrait.

Hermione looked back around just in time to catch the man's features soften just as she usually witnessed with her professor. "Masha…"

"He was a good boy, _sakharok._ And despite your meddling he has still grown to be a good man. So don't you dare insult him for what you have caused," she stood her ground and Hermione watched in awe as the painting grumpily agreed with her, swiftly backing down from the fight.

"Come Hermione," she heard the woman beckon. "Let's go somewhere more private. I wish to speak to you about something."

Oh no. Hermione swallowed harshly before nodding her head and following the smaller woman out of the study and into what looked like a back sitting room between the study and kitchen.

"My husband used to entertain his important guests here. The smell always got to me so I rarely come back here. But we should not be interrupted," she explained. Hermione stood straight in the doorway, afraid of where this conversation would go.

"Come, sit," she beckoned. Hermione didn't sense anything but friendliness in her voice so she inched her way into the room and settled on a hard, most likely rarely used wingback chair. Mrs. Dolohov sat opposite of her.

"I apologize for my late husband's tone. He's always been so prickly when it comes to Antonin. But I never fail to set him straight."

Hermione could only nod, wishing that they could just get to the real reason she was asked back here to speak. It was slowly pouring anxiety into her bloodstream to be kept in such a state of suspense. And it seemed that the woman noticed.

"Please relax, Hermione. I'm not angry with you. Far from it really." That surprised her. Hadn't she seen…?

"You probably have already guessed that my son often has the tendency to be standoffish. He gets it from his father, I swear. But there have been moments in his life where I have seen him truly look happy. He always had this wide grin on his face. The first time he successfully rode a broom, when he got his Hogwarts letter, when he made Prefect, when he created his first spell. It was always a rare smile, but I knew that in those moments, he was the happiest he had ever been."

"I don't think I'm following, Mrs. Dolohov…" Hermione added nervously. Because really, where was she going with this? She knew as well as anyone that her professor rarely smiled in exuberance. His typical ones were always guarded or easy to miss. The few occasions she had really seen him smile were like the ones at dinner. And those were usually directed at her anyways.

"Masha, dearie, please. At dinner I saw him smile at you," it was almost like she had read Hermione's thoughts. Her professor had said that she was an excellent Legilimens… "And it was the same exact one from when he was a child. From when he was truly happy."

"Why do you think he would look at you like that, Hermione?"

The young witch paused. She was scared of the woman's reaction but she was a Gryffindor. And Gryffindor's were brave. She could be brave in this instance.

"He cares for me," Hermione finally said after a few moments had gone by in strange silence.

"He cares for you?" Masha repeated.

Hermione looked up and confidently met the woman's critical eye, "And I care for him."

The tiny blonde's features instantly melted as tears began to well up in her eyes. Hermione started as the witch stood and wrapped Hermione into a strong embrace, a sob bursting from her throat. "Oh my dear girl… Thank you."

"Thank you?" It was Hermione's turn to parrot the older woman.

Masha pulled apart and the smile on her face almost brought Hermione to tears as well. "Thank you for caring for him. Hermione, I… I never expected my son to ever find another soul that would understand him. I never thought he would find someone _to_ understand. I had hoped he would. Morgana, I _prayed_ for him to find someone, anyone. And here you are!"

"You- You don't mind? That I'm more than half his age? That I'm his student?" Hermione was flabbergasted. This was certainly not the response she had been expecting from her professor's mother.

Masha waved her concerns away with her hand like they were tangible. "Oh psh. Vladimir was more than thirty years older than me when he chose me to be his wife. Age is but a number Hermione, especially amongst witches and wizards. It's the connection, _the love_ , between two people that makes the relationship."

"You really don't mind…" Hermione repeated, still stuck in a mental deadlock that wouldn't let her better understand the situation.

"Of course not!" She squeezed the younger witch's shoulders in support, "My dear, all I've ever wanted was my son's happiness. And with you, he seems to have it. I would never disapprove or opt to take that away from him."

She huffed out a breath before regretfully informing her, "Even if he found happiness in darkness and depravity… I would never step in between. We do strange things for the people we love…"

"I understand… I really do," Hermione admitted, a small smile breaking out on her face as she looked into familiar eyes.

"Take care of him, Hermione… He's the only son I have."

"I promise, Masha. I will."

* * *

Having the Order in his home wasn't nearly as bad as he had once thought.

Granted, it was annoying having all the chatter when he usually used the place as his own personal sanctuary whenever he could, but it was still fine having the people crowding the often vacant halls.

He remembered when he was a boy, young, before Hogwarts at least. It had been him, his father and his mother. But the house had seemed much more lifelike then. Animated, even. If Hogwart's could be sentient, then more often than not, Castle Combe had seemed the same.

Silly, he knew, but he had only been a boy.

Now, the house reflected his own inner self. Dark, quiet, almost lonely. Even with his mother as an occupant, it was still different. Still foreign at times.

Especially since he was rarely there. Partially his own fault, he knew. But he couldn't swallow the shame he felt. It was even worse around his mother, much to her displeasure.

She loved being able to take care of him most of all. He was her little man, a real momma's boy if he actually took the time to stop and think about it. But how could he not be? She was a woman to be reckoned with. Not even his father could last long in their brief fights. And they were indeed _brief_. Meaning his father lost every single one of them before they could even begin.

Antonin was starting to see how that could happen. He was having an exceptionally difficult time disagreeing with Hermione now. From her insisting on taking care of him to her pleas of being shown a tour of his home.

Which was how he ended up in his current predicament. Giving her and the rest of the school children a brief showing of his home. Mostly he was just watching them pick their rooms like bloody heathens, but every once in a while, one of them (usually Hermione) would ask him a question about some feature. Whether it was a painting, ugly vase, or antique, Antonin knew most of the history of the home. And if he didn't, well, his mother was hovering so she was available to answer.

He didn't know what was going on with her at the moment. Normally when he came home, she'd give him the space he needed until he came to her. She was very attentive like that. But now, it was almost like she was around every corner. With a quick smile and _something_ to say.

He didn't like it. It meant she was up to something and knowing her, it had something to do with setting him up with an available female. After her last failed attempt from almost eight years ago, Antonin had put his foot down. _No more blind dates_ , he had told her. He was never experiencing the process of public fellatio _ever_ again.

Oh she had sworn up and down that she had thought the girl was classy and tasteful. She had certainly enjoyed tasting something alright. And as much as Antonin was fond of detached relations, he just could not keep it up in a sanitary facility.

He'd pick his own hookups from then on. Well, he had. But the last time he'd had sex was four or so years ago with Vector. Had he thought about sex since then? Yes. A lot actually. But only with one witch. One who was still slightly unavailable to him.

Yes, yes, they'd decided to experiment with whatever this thing between them was, but it hadn't progressed into anything. Antonin feared that it was his own fault. Had he scared her away after his behavior during the Death Eater raid on Hogwarts?

He had only killed Rabastan because he had been trying to force himself on her. She was _his_ and he made sure that Lestrange understood his error before he had broken every bone in the worthless man's body. He had derived pure sick pleasure from listening to the man scream for mercy. Luckily a silencing charm made sure that no one else would ever know of the joy Antonin got from destroying the beast one bone at a time. Disposing of him once the light had left his eyes had been easy enough and he had even altered Crabbe's memory so that no one would ever suspect him of that crime.

But he had still forgotten about _fucking_ Rowle.

Antonin's thoughts turned dark once again as the gingers conjugated in front of him argued over whose room was whose. He wouldn't go the cheap route and use on Muggle techniques on the hulking man. Oh no, Antonin wasn't a prodigy in Charms for nothing. He'd make good use of his repertoire before ending the blonde's life.

He hated having to repair bones. And because of the dolt, Hermione had been worried about him. More so than usual. She looked like she hadn't slept in the past few days. Maybe she hadn't. Worry and dread over him could have kept her awake.

He secretly hoped that was the case. He still derived a strange pleasure with her concern of him. He often wished it progressed into something more. He sometimes hoped for her to want him in the same way that he wanted her. Any and every way possible.

But looking at the back of her vivacious curls now… He couldn't make heads or tails of it. He should probably just take her aside at some point and ask her. Straight forward and honest, she would definitely appreciate that from him.

And then there was the addition of him no longer being her professor. Even if she did return to Hogwarts, which was looking more and more unlikely with Dumbledore gone, he wouldn't be going with her. As far as anyone was concerned, Antonin Dolohov had put in his papers and now had a freelance job at the Ministry as a cursebreaker and charms specialist.

She wouldn't have to call him professor anymore though… She could freely call him by his given name. The thought of his name falling from her lips for the first time sent an odd thrill through his body and he struggled not to let it outwardly show.

 _We talked about these random erections, Dolohov._

Situated himself slightly, he continued to watch the others wandering around the second floor of his childhood home as he willed his unwanted erection away. As he was refocusing his thoughts and attempting to think of something less pleasurable, the object of his lust decided that now would be a perfect moment to just appear right in front of him.

"Professor?" She questioned as he flinched back slightly at her sudden appearance. A small frown marred her features as she watched him with growing concern. "Are you feeling alright?" She took a few steps forward until she was almost pressed against his chest. _Not too far, please don't feel what I'm struggling with, not in the middle of the hallway._

He swallowed thickly before managing to nod his head, forcing out his words, "Yes, I'm fine. Just lost my train of thought there for a moment."

"You mean you were spacing out," she deadpanned, causing his eyes to widen in shock before they both broke out into grins and subsequent laughter. She was just too much for him some days. She brought out the carefree, humorous side that he often stifled. He never thought anyone would appreciate his dry sarcasm or dark humor.

But she seemed to like it. And even the former Marauders and Weasley's were fond of it at this point. Much like his former housemates had been. But then, their sense of humor was twisted anyways. They all made a perfect match.

Shaking free of his nostalgic thoughts, he refocused his attention onto the still giggling girl standing in front of him. "Was there something you needed Miss Granger?"

She regained control of herself before smiling up at him, "I was just wondering which one of these rooms was yours."

Why? Why did she have to ask that question so bloody innocently? His thoughts went exactly where he expected them to go. But she… What angle did she have with this? Did she even have one to begin with? She was a Gryffindor, not a Slytherin like himself. She didn't inspect conversations for hidden agendas or ulterior motives.

Blinking once, he reorganized his steadily growing chaotic thoughts before giving her an answer. "My room has always been the second door on the left. I preferred being closer to the stairs as a child. Much easier to sneak down them and into the kitchen whenever the fancy struck me."

Why did he say that? He didn't need to explain himself to this degree. And yet… The smile she was giving him physically _hurt_. Such affection in one facial expression should be banned. Especially from her and especially anywhere near his person.

She couldn't possibly know what she does to him, can she?

"Don't worry professor, I won't tell. I like midnight snacks too," was there a glint in her eye or has he truly lost it? Most likely the latter. There is no way that his naïve little Gryffindor is acting diabolical. Perhaps she has just grown more confident in her body. Yes, that had to be it. She wasn't purposely egging him on.

He wanted to snort in laughter at the thought of Hermione attempting to seduce him. Picturing all the women that came before her, he just couldn't imagine her doing anything like those women had tried. Whether it be exposing themselves and just letting him call the shots or those who made their intentions _very_ clear.

Hermione wasn't like any of them. She was good and shy and painfully innocent. Maybe a little bossy but that was only endearing. She wasn't purposely using that against him.

Scoffing slightly at the ridiculous thought, he looked down to see her still standing in front of him, watching him critically. He cleared his throat audibly before asking, "Was there something else?"

"Could I stay with you tonight?" _What._

"You want to…?" He questioned slowly, confusion most likely coating his features.

"Stay. With you. Tonight." She enunciated politely, a small smile appearing on her full lips. Distractions. Everything about this tiny girl was distracting. To the light shining through her whiskey colored eyes to the illegal abundance of riotous curls.

But he was already long gone.

"If you want," he conceded quietly, ignoring the pang in his chest at those lips quirking into an even brighter smile. He briefly mused that she was much like the sun shining through his storm cloud of a life. But then he chastised himself for thinking like a bloody Hufflepuff.

She reached out and took his hand while he was internally yelling at himself. "See you tonight," she said sweetly and with a small squeeze of his hand, she was gone, wandering back down the hallway to where the rest of the redheaded clan had gathered.

He still felt her warmth even minutes after she had already gone.

"I'm glad to finally see that look," he flinched yet again and whirled around to look down at his mother. He needed to get it together. There was no way that women a foot shorter than him should be able to sneak up on him this easily.

"What look," he deflected naturally.

But he regretted it when he watched a small glare appear on his mother's beautiful features. She was scary when she politely argues. She was downright terrifying when actually angered. She pulled him into a nearby vacant room and warded the door closed before rounding on him, her magical energy cackling around the room as she fumed.

"Antonin Vladimovich Dolohov…"

Hearing her use his middle name, he ground his teeth together harshly before asking, "What do you want me to say, _mama_?"

"I want to know how you feel about her."

"I don't know," he struggled under the weight of her glare as he still attempted to redirect her focus. Obviously that plan was doomed from the start though. And it only served to anger the woman in front of him.

"You tell me the truth _mal'chik,_ or so help me-"

"Please don't hate me, _mama_ …" He breathed out quietly, surprising his mother into silence.

" _Toyin_ …" she cooed. "I could never hate you," she reassured as she pulled him into an awkward embrace. She still felt like safety to him, but seeing as she only came up to his sternum, it was very disproportionate.

"Now, tell me the truth," she spoke firmly as she released him and took a small step back to look up at him fully. "How do you feel about her?"

Hesitating only slightly, he made the decision to tell his mother the truth, "I care for her. She makes me feel… good. Like I am good. She has never been afraid or mistrustful of me." He smiled fondly at the memory of her, "She sees the man I've always hoped I could one day be in me… She's special to me."

He looked back down and saw that his mother had a few tears at the corner of her eyes, but the smile on her face negated any chance of those being from sadness. She clasped his hands in hers and rubbed them softly as she spoke, "I'm glad. I really am, Antonin."

"You aren't disappointed," he asked in confusion.

"Never. You have found yourself a brilliant, sweet, and lovely young witch who cares for you as much as you do for her." Antonin highly doubted that, but he wasn't about to correct his mother in the middle of her moment.

"You deserve happiness, _moy syn_. And if Hermione gives you that happiness, then I want nothing more than for you to keep that."

They were silent for a moment, with Antonin letting her words sink in. She didn't mind… She didn't mind that he had inappropriate feelings for his former student even while she was still his student. She was just happy for him…

"Do you love her, _Toyin_?" She asked carefully, watching his reaction with almost the exact same critique he had seen in his witch's earlier.

"I… I don't know, _mama_. I think it's more complicated than that," he explained. And it was the truth. He couldn't be sure exactly what the extent of his feelings were for the tiny brunette. All he knew was that he did have strong emotional feelings for her.

His mother patted his cheek lovingly, "Don't worry. You'll know soon enough."

He could only hope she was right. And that he would live long enough to see that moment arise.

* * *

Hermione waited until everyone else had long gone off to bed.

She herself had been exhausted, but she refused to crash until she was safely in Professor Dolohov's room and curled into his side. He'd said yes after all. She hadn't known what possessed her to just ask him, normally she did it regardless. Maybe she just wanted the reassurance that he still liked her. Or that they could still have these moments together even with the added bonus of his family being around.

She at least had the secure knowledge that his mother was on their side. But he didn't know that. Unless she or Masha told him. Maybe she would. Tonight, before they go to sleep. He deserved to know that someone else supported them.

Whatever they were.

After she checked to make sure that no one else was just meandering around, Hermione slipped out of the room she had tentatively chosen as her own, but had no plans to actually use. She'd spend every night with her professor if she could.

Traveling down the short hallway, she stopped at the stairs before padding down the opposite hallway. _Second door on the left_ , she remembered. She thought about knocking but just as she raised her hand to do so, the door opened for her, allowing her entrance. She snuck in quickly and it shut quietly behind her.

Her wizard was sitting on a comfortable looking green armchair, absorbed in a book he had. Ignoring him for the moment, she looked around his room for the first time. It was decorated much like his office was, with darkened wood bookshelves covering as much wall space as possible. There were a few dressers positioned between them and a wardrobe off to the side. The bed in the middle was large and soft looking with silver and burgundy sheets.

She traversed around the area, inspecting some of the books lining his shelves but stopped at one of the dressers. There were moving wizarding pictures on top of it. One showed a smiling dark haired boy positioned in between a younger looking Masha and what obviously must be Vladimir Dolohov. _They looked happy in this picture_ , she thought. _He must only be five or so_.

Once, she couldn't have ever imagined a young Professor Dolohov, but looking at the real thing… She found that she could easily match the man to the boy.

Moving on to the next picture, she saw what must have been the scene of him leaving for Hogwarts. He was slightly older with plain black robes on. Masha was kissing his cheek and Vladimir was ruffling his hair as he nervously smiled up at them.

The next was several years later. He looked like a teenager, much taller and very lean. His hair fell in waves over his forehead, which complimented the bored look in his eyes as he stood in between several other male Slytherins. Hermione couldn't really place any of them but figured they must have been his housemates at the time.

The next picture was one she had seen in Professor Slughorn's rooms. So, her professor had been a member of the Slug Club. _Of course he was_ , she huffed. _Besides being a Slytherin, he was an expert at Charms_. Hermione looked carefully at the picture and was surprised when she was able to pick several other individuals out of the photo.

Lucius Malfoy was standing directly next to her professor, looking every inch the aristocratic pureblood she knew him to be. His long blonde hair was tied in a loose ponytail that hung over his shoulder that she could see even better when he turned to share an amused look with the witch on the other side of her professor. Hermione remembered her from Slughorn's Christmas Party. This was the woman he had told her to be Floriana Zabini, Blaise Zabini's mother.

She had a tight grip on her wizard's arm and sent an equally amused glance back to Malfoy. Her professor maintained the same exact bored, disinterested expression he held in the previous photo. The only other person in the photo was a black haired boy who looked younger than the other three. He had a distinguished face that almost mirrored her professors. She would have thought that they were related had the boy not had darker hair and silver eyes.

"Avery," a low voice sounded from behind her. She twisted her head slightly to look up at man as he stared past her to the photo she had been intently looking at just a moment ago.

"What?" She asked quietly.

"That's Zacharias Avery. He was in the same year as Snape and the Marauders, but besides me, he was the best at Charms. Slughorn had invited him into the Slug Club hoping to curb his sadistic streak and find him influence with myself, Lucius, and Ana."

"And did it help?"

He seemed to mull over her words for a moment, "Somewhat. He's still a sick bastard, but he takes orders well. And he genuinely wants to gain favor with those of us more talented and respected."

"He sounds weak," Hermione mumbled, more so to herself but he heard her and agreed.

"He is."

Looking back at the other photos, Hermione paused on the one of him and his housemates. "Who are they?" She asked, pointing at the picture for his clarification.

"The fat one is Travers, Nott is the gangly looking one, and Yaxley is the blonde."

"Nott… Theo's father?" She guessed. Her professor gave an affirmative sound before turning to put the book in his hands away.

"You look happy," she told him absentmindedly. "In these first two photos."

"I was a child. Most children are happy."

"When did it change?" She asked him confidently, wondering where in the world it came from to begin with. If he seemed surprised by her question, he hid it well.

"My third year. I had gotten an Acceptable in Herbology." He looked sheepish for a moment at her shock before explaining, "I was never too fond of plants. But my father didn't care. I was to get Outstandings or Exceeds Expectations in every subject."

"He hurt you?"

"Yes. Took me on a business trip with him so that my mother wouldn't know and made sure I understood why it was impertinent of me to succeed. We were the foreigners; we were the outsiders. I had to be their way into British wizarding society."

"By making a name for yourself and making friends?" It wasn't too hard for her to follow along. It sounded a lot like medieval talk of alliances between different countries.

"Yes. And by one day marrying a witch of proper status. Meaning the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

"But you never did that," she pointed out, curious as to what his life was like at that point. She had often wondered why he had never married, even before Voldemort had fallen.

"No, every alliance he tried to make fell through before they could even begin. I had outright refused to marry Ana. She was a friend but I wouldn't have lasted as her husband. And the Blacks, I wanted nothing to do with that family."

"Because of all the inbreeding?" She jested, causing a small smile to appear on his face.

"Exactly. Not to mention the madness." He shuddered slightly before opening a dresser door and pulling out a pair of soft pajama bottoms. "I'm going to go shower and change. Feel free to make yourself comfortable."

"Be careful with your injuries," she reminded him as he walked to the door. She thought she heard him mutter something that sounded suspiciously like, "Yes, _mama_ ," but chose to ignore him. That wasn't exactly an insult, his mother was amazing.

She looked around at more of his books before she began to feel dead on her feet. She was already in shorts and a t-shirt so she pulled back the colors to the bed and snuggled inside of them. But the sheets were too cold so she just laid there, waiting for him to return.

It wasn't very long before the door opened and he came back inside, tossing his robes into the wardrobe. He walked to the opposite side of the bed and threw back the covers there. He maneuvered himself into a comfortable position facing her and met her gaze with his own.

"You're still awake?" He asked. She just nodded her head before scooting herself closer to him. His arms opened automatically and slid around her as she pressed herself into his warm, fresh smelling chest. The scent of sandalwood was so strong that she felt herself go a bit dizzy. She thought she would just pass out in his arms until she heard his deep voice speaking from above her.

"I'm so sorry that I worried you… I wish I didn't have to. I wish I could just stay here, with you, and never have to put either of us in danger ever again…" One of her hands was over top of his beating heart while the other slipped around his waist to hold him close to her.

"It's alright," she whispered into his chest. "You're here now."

"I'm here now," he echoed. She felt him place a long kiss onto the top of her head before she felt him physically relax against her. The sounds of his breathing evening out came shortly before her own. And they fell asleep listening to the soft snores of the other.

Safe and sound with the person they wanted to be with most.


	13. Year ? - Part Three

**_Year ? – Part Three_**

She wanted to wake up like this every morning.

Snaked around her wizard, cocooned beneath the covers, a personal sanctuary away from everything but him. It was everything she never knew she wanted until this very moment. The threat of never seeing him again had caused her to cherish this above all of the other times she had woken up next to him.

Tilting her head up, her forehead rubbed against his stubble. But once she was far enough away to watch him, she paused and sleepily admired him. He was smiling in his slumber for once, giving an almost boyish charm to his normally rugged looks. She figured he must be having an exceptionally good dream.

Not wanting to disturb him just yet, she merely continued to gaze at him, occasionally running her fingers across his back. It was almost like she was trying to make sure that he was real, that he was tangible. It helped, at the very least.

He let out a small sigh before he shifted slightly, pulling her back into his arms with her tucked underneath of his chin. Grinning to herself, she nuzzled his chest lovingly. A shiver ran through her body at the sound of his deep chuckles vibrating through her and the air around her.

"Are you a cat now, _pchelka_?" She heard his rough morning voice ask teasingly.

"What does _pchelka_ mean?" She asked innocently enough. To be honest, it was driving her mad not knowing. She _knew_ it was an endearment but to what caliber, she did not know. He could be calling her something ridiculous, like baby spinach, for all she knew.

"Little bee," he replied after a short yawn. "Or more acutely used as another word for 'honey.'"

"So you call me that because…?" She prodded, trying to see how much information she could get out of her sleepy professor.

"You're adorable," he mumbled into her hair. "And always flitting around me, trying to be helpful."

"You mean I'm annoying?" She tried sounding offended but probably failed miserably at it. Especially when she felt him chuckle once again.

"Adorably annoying," he jested, causing them both to cackle into one another.

"Good morning, professor," she added as a second thought. It felt strange but equally as wonderful to be able to say that again.

"Hermione…" She heard him say above her before his grip on her loosened and he pulled away from her slightly. Just far enough that he could look her in the eye. He held a bit of concern in his gaze but overall, it was just his normally drowsy expression that he held at this hour.

"What is it?"

"I'm no longer your professor," he admitted quietly. She stared at him in confusion. What did he mean by that?

"Dumbledore was the only reason I remained at Hogwarts. With him gone, I'm to be used elsewhere," he continued, explaining to her why he would not be returning to the castle come fall.

"So you won't ever be a professor again?" She questioned, trying to come to terms with the fact that _her_ professor would not be _a_ professor.

He gave a halfhearted shrug as he watched her. "I don't know. For the duration of the war, no, I will not be returning to my position at the school."

She nodded thoughtfully, "It makes sense, like you explained it, the Headmaster was the only reason you were there in the first place. It's just bizarre that I won't be able to see you as my professor anymore."

Realizing something, she met his gaze again, "So then… what do I call you if not professor?"

He breathed out a laugh, "Well, I suppose you'll just have to call me by my name."

"Your name," she repeated, making sure that she had heard him correctly.

"Yes, Hermione, my name," he drawled, his face moving closer to her own until their noses were almost touching. "Can you say it?"

"Your name?" She felt like an idiot, but her brain was going haywire. Her face felt like it was in a furnace and her heart was sounding in her ears.

"An-ton-in," he enunciated for her. "Say it for me."

Hermione stared at him in shock for a moment before attempting to get a better grip on her bearings. His large hands were still on her, one at her waist and the other trailing up her back. They were incredibly distracting.

"Please… Hermione."

"An- Antonin…" She forced out, testing the way it sounded on her lips. Surprisingly, she found that she almost preferred his name to his title. It was more intimate, more personal.

And by the way his eyes were darkening, he approved as well.

"Again," he demanded. Hermione had never heard her profess- Antonin sound so demanding before, but found that it was something she could get use to in this scenario.

"Antonin," she repeated with a bit more confidence in her delivery. He sucked in a breath as he touched his forehead to hers.

"You will be the death of me, little witch…"

"Why is that?" She asked softly, watching for his reaction as he pulled away a bit. He met her eyes and she could see a new emotion swirling around in his dilated stare. She took a very educated guess and figured that it was lust. And the only reason she thought that was from the hot and hard pressure that was now nudging against her hip.

"I think you know," his voice had taken a new inflection. It was much… huskier, like his morning voice combined with something sensual and dominating. Hermione thought that if he continued to use that tone of voice, she would do whatever he wanted; no matter what it was.

As she saw it, she had several options in that moment. She could do what her instincts were telling her to do and cuddle back up against him and forget that they had even begun to trapeze down this road.

Or, she could bypass her awkward virginal inexperience and be the Gryffindor the Sorting Hat had told her she was all those years ago. _Love_ , it had told her. _In Gryffindor, you will find love_.

And she loved this man.

Summoning all her courage, she fixed her expression into one of dubious intent as her hand slunk down into between their chests. "Does it have something to do with this?" She asked curiously as the tips of her fingers brushed against the heat coming from the front of his thin pajama pants.

A hiss came from above her and she looked up to see the arousal swimming in chocolate pools. He wanted her. She knew that already. But now _she_ was getting _him_. Just the thought of it boosted her growing confidence as her fingers curled around the protruding member.

 _Wait… Was he not wearing boxers?!_

Through her addled mind she heard him whisper something in Russian and to Hermione's ears, it sounded almost reverent. As her thumb slowly rubbed against the cloth underneath of the digit, she asked, "What was that?"

"A prayer," he muttered out in between his heavier breathes. "Thanking Merlin for whatever it was that I've done to deserve this. To deserve _you_."

Hermione felt her face heat up again as she continued to experimentally stroke the man's sensitive anatomy. He didn't seem to mind that she so obviously had no idea what she was doing. He just seemed to be letting her do what she wanted.

"Does it feel good?" She asked uncertainly, after he had been silent for a few moments.

"Yes…" He gasped out as her thumb switched to run over the top of his prick, feeling the indent of the slit she knew would be there. Books did come in handy for this type of activity. Especially the ones her roommates and Ginny always had. She wasn't a complete prude. "Torturous, but so good."

"I don't want to torture you," she said slowly, her fingers pausing where they were against the thickened bulge.

He groaned slightly before she felt the hand from her back move and place itself over top of her hand in between them. His fingers took hold of hers and began a slow stroking motion again.

"Then please… don't stop," he practically begged of her.

Her lips curled into a small grin as she continued the motion he had set for them, pleased that he was responding so well to her touch alone. Flesh hadn't even met flesh yet and he already seemed on the edge of falling over into ecstasy.

Having the urge to see him, to observe what she was doing, she quietly asked, "Could I see you?"

His half lidded eyes met hers as his head moved up and down, rustling the pillow beneath it. He pushed himself onto his back and Hermione released him for a moment, waiting for him to get comfortable. His long legs kicked off the covers and she sat up, her wild hair fanning around her head as she looked down at his face.

His chest was still rising and falling at a more rapid pace as he watched her just as intently. She followed the line of his chest down to his naval and then to his hips. The trail of hair she remembered seeing last year led directly to where she planned on going. She just had to stop shaking.

She was nervous; maybe even more than when their lives were at risk during the Department of Mysteries debacle. She had never pleasured a man before. And he was a man with a lot of experience. How could she even compare to the dozen or so other women who came before her?

"Hermione," she heard him whisper. He had sat up as well, his face hovering close to hers as he stared at her with understanding written across his features. "You know you don't have to… I would never force or ever expect anything from you. We will take this at whatever speed you find the most comfortable."

"I want to see you," she told him, and it was the truth. She wanted to be able to know exactly what he looked like in his entirety. She didn't want secrets or barriers in between them anymore. Openness seemed to work the best for the two of them.

He nodded once before reaching down and deftly untying the single drawstring holding the pants in place. He met her gaze once more, questioning whether or not she still wanted to go through with this. And she did.

He didn't take the pants off, or even pull them all the way down. Just enough so that she could properly see the long, thick flesh standing at attention in the midst of dark curls. Despite her inexperience, she knew that he had to be fairly well endowed. Most pictures in the anatomy books showed them to be much smaller. There was a vein throbbing at different intervals, the slit at the top of the reddened tip was glistening, and the entire member was twitching as she watched it.

Reaching out again, she touched the smooth tip and went to grip the shaft itself, jumping slightly when another groan came from the man next to her. Focusing back on the task in hand, she rubbed the soft flesh between her fingers, letting herself become familiarized with this part of his anatomy. He continued letting out low sounds as she stroked and caressed him.

She began to feel a bit more confident in her actions, gripping him a bit tighter. The accompanying groan was absolutely delicious to Hermione's ears and the burst of pride she had seemed well deserved. She was doing it right, he enjoyed what she was doing.

"Faster?" She asked him.

"Faster," he agreed along with a small gasp.

Her hand was a bit tired after a few minutes but her mind was entirely focused on what she was doing to him. He had fallen back onto the bed, eyes shut as her hand rose then fell then rose again in continuous motions. She alternated speeds, occasionally eliciting choice words in both English and Russian from the man in front of her.

If her grip became a little too soft, he would ask her to tighten it. She'd ask him if she thought it was too tight. She'd ask him before she went faster. All in all, Hermione thought they had fairly good communication going on between them, something her mother had always told her would be important when she had given her daughter the 'sex talk.'

She felt him throb in her hand as she began to stroke him even faster. "Fuck, fuck! I'm coming," he told her. She watched as he grunted and spilled his seed over her hand and fingers. It was the first time she had ever seen semen before. She remembered a particularly vivid conversation between Lavender and Parvati last year where the two had been talking about how it was sticky and bitter.

It certainly felt that way as her hand pulled away and she flexed her fingers slightly, testing to see if it was true. She went to bring one of her coated fingers to her mouth, curious if the other bit of information had been factual as well, but one of Antonin's larger hands grasped her hand before she could even get close to her face.

He had grabbed his wand at some point and cast a quick ' _Scourgify_ ' on the two of them, removing any trace of the substance. She must have inadvertently pouted because he raised an eyebrow at her before drawling, "You don't want to start something you can't finish, _moy svet._ "

She let her hand drop into her lap once he released her and smiled tentatively at him. He was right, she hadn't realized at the time how sexual that action would have been. And she wasn't prepared to deal with those consequences just yet.

"Did that sate your curiosity?" He questioned as he pulled his pants back into place and retied the drawstring.

"Very much so," she admitted, loving the smirk he was sporting as he finished knotting the strings.

His eyes rose to meet hers and he tilted his head in appraisal, watching her with an intensity that suddenly made her feel self-conscious. "I could return the favor," he told her slowly, judging her facial responses as he spoke.

She felt the inner lioness disappear almost at once as the thought of him touching her most intimate areas came to mind and she dropped her head in embarrassment. He picked up on her sudden shyness and brushed back a few loose curls that had drifted in front of her face. "Another time perhaps," he said politely, understanding that all of this was very new to her.

"Thank you," she said softly. And she meant it, she was entirely thankful that he wasn't interested in pressuring her and was willing to let her set their pace.

"You're welcome," he smiled as he pressed a short kiss to her lips. "Oh, and good morning."

She smacked his chest playfully, causing him to wrap his arms around her and pull her back down onto the bed in a mess of laughter and light kisses.

* * *

A routine had been found.

In the mornings, Antonin would have to leave to go do his Death Eater duties; creating spells, breaking curses, terrorizing the masses against his will. Each day was long and tedious and always left him with a bad taste in his mouth by the time he got around to returning.

More often than not, it was far past the usual dinner time so he'd either eat on the job or his mother would have something prepared and held under a stasis charm for his use when he inevitably returned.

Most nights he would come back after everyone had already settled for the night or gone to bed. The Weasley children were staying at the house while their parents and elder siblings planned some ridiculous wedding for the eldest redhead. Black, Lupin, and Tonks also stayed since Grimmauld Place had been abandoned.

And then there was Hermione.

She was always there when he walked into his bedroom. Either reading in his chair or snuggled into his bed, watching him with wide eyes, appraising him for any injuries she might have to heal. He was normally fine, maybe a few new bruises or cuts but he didn't throw himself head first into the work he was doing. He took his time, holding back, pretending to be cautious.

Really, he just didn't want to be working for that side anymore. But he couldn't exactly let any of his new, brainwashed colleagues know that, now could he?

It was stressful, being in that environment again after so long. Coming home to his witch though… It made it bearable. He had something to look forward to after finishing for the day. Not just another drink at a pub, or an unnamed woman he'd found for the night. He had someone who made his heart skip a beat, who treated him like he was the most important wizard in the world, whose appearance always brought his cracked soul a bit of peace.

He couldn't say for sure that he belonged to this little witch, but it was becoming more and more likely that he did. He never argued when she'd insist on healing any mars to his person. He was content to rest his head in her lap and let her play with his hair; something he hadn't let anyone but his mother do since he was a child. He'd even forgo using the bathroom first thing in the morning if she were still fast asleep.

And the more he found himself falling into her, the less he cared about the consequences. He often had worries when they first started this that they'd be found out. Someone would go looking for her in the middle of the night and not find her in the room she had originally claimed as hers. His door was warded shut, but they'd have to leave eventually, and if someone was waiting for them…

He didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to see anyone else's reaction to him and her. He wasn't doing anything wrong. She was a legal, consenting adult, he was no longer her professor, and she wanted him almost as much as he wanted her.

They had begun to experiment sexually along with their conquest to better their knowledge of one another. In between her memories of attempting to bake cakes and failing with her mother and his recollections of accidental magic he had done as child, they would usually just touch. Touching was a fine start, he had told her. It let them become better acquainted with the other and their body. What touches felt good, and oppositely, what didn't feel good.

Antonin learned pretty quickly that if touched too lightly on the section of skin directly above her hips, he got a fierce kick to the skins. She had apologized profusely while he had laughed for what felt like hours to him. He now knew she was ticklish at the very least.

She had found that even if clothed, if she ground herself against him just right, he'd moan in delight at the friction caused. Something she was apparently delighted to hear, seeing as she kept doing it whenever she could get away with it.

Due to her shyness and lack of experience, she preferred when he would take the lead. He would tell her what felt good for him and she would respond like the diligent student he knew her to be. They hadn't progressed much farther than touching, but if that was all he ever got from her, he could still die happy. Her hands could set any man's skin on fire. He was just glad it was _his_ and not someone else's.

The only downside to their newfound progression, were the bloody smug looks his mother kept giving the two of them. He and Hermione had already had the conversation were both had revealed what the older witch had told them. While he was glad to have his mother support the two of them, she needed to stop acting like she knew _precisely_ what they were doing.

The only thing worse than having your mother set you up on a date, was having your mother know about your sex life. And Antonin already had the first one down pat. He really didn't want to start exploring the second one.

But whenever he would sit next to Hermione or even be seen _near_ her for that matter, his mother would give him this knowing grin like they were all a part of some top secret mission that he wasn't allowed to forget about.

It was _maddening_.

It also made it more likely for someone else to catch on. He wasn't prepared for that either at the moment. He was dealing with psychotic coworkers, a paranoid megalomaniac for a leader, and a budding relationship with a too young witch surrounded by people who would more than likely hex his bollocks off if any of them found out about it.

As it turns out, he only had to wait a few weeks for that to happen.

He had come home at dinnertime for once and shared a meal with the rest of the house's occupants. Afterwards, he had retired to his room, followed by Hermione who spent her evenings and nights in his room anyways. Not that anyone had known that fact.

He settled in his armchair with one of his favorite books on the expansion of established charms. She picked out a random book on spell creation, something she found herself more and more interested in thanks to him, and plopped herself on his lap.

With her head on his shoulder and feet holding her up against the arm of the chair, they both relaxed in the presence of the other while they enjoyed their individual books. He tried not to focus on the way her bum would wriggle against him deliciously when she'd readjust herself for comfort purposes. Mostly because now he was beginning to realize that she was pulling these stunts purposely, not just on accident.

 _She really was a minx_ , his lust addled mind had registered.

But he had enough control and willpower to hold out through her innocent tactics of seduction. Not that he didn't give her credit for them; he was completely aroused in that moment. He was just proving that he wasn't going to give into her attempts at distraction that easily. He was still a Slytherin after all.

She grew tired of his lack of response anyways, placing her book on the end table beside them. Turning in his lap, she put her knees on either side of him, straddling him securely. He kept his eyes focused on the book in his hand and tried to keep the grin off of his face as he watched in his peripheral the annoyed look she had.

"Antonin," she started to say in feigned exasperation as she grabbed the book out of his hand.

"Don't lose my page," he warned as she went to put the book on top of her own discarded one. She met his eyes and promptly shut the book with a snap before dropping it onto the other.

He rolled his eyes at her but placed his hands on her hips, grounding her into his own. "Now, now, what ever will I do with this new rebellious behavior you've started?"

"You could punish me?" She whispered into his lips as she placed hers over top of them.

"There's an idea," he mumbled before engaging with her in several long, drawn out open mouth kisses. She tasted like those sugary cakes they had an hour ago for dessert. He found he loved the taste of it even the second time around. Especially combined with what was just uniquely Hermione.

Her hands went up to his shoulders and then into the hair at the nape of his neck. She pulled slightly and he groaned deep into her mouth. He felt her lips quirk at the sound as she continued to tease him. Not wanting her to get too cocky, he let his hands slide down from her hips to that distracting bum. She gasped into him and he took the opportunity to explore her mouth with his tongue.

She clashed with his and they were a mesh of lips and tongue and teeth. He had never found kissing to be a passionate activity until now. Before, he just did so because it was foreplay and some women had preferred that. He had himself had never found much pleasure in the act.

Until Hermione.

Everything she did only served to draw him in. He knew he would soon drown, but he was past caring. He had a hand full of plump flesh in each of his palms, her fingers were twirled in his hair and pulling just right, and they were both fully occupied with the inside of the other's mouth.

In hindsight, it figured that someone would walk in on them. Especially since he had forgotten to ward his room before they began this intimate adventure.

"Bloody hell!" At the foreign voice, he pulled away from his witch and looked past her to meet the shocked eyes of Sirius Black.

And he had thought his mother would be bad…


	14. Year ? - Part Four

**_Year ? – Part Four_**

"Black…" He muttered as he watched the man close the door behind him and fold his arms across his chest in the typical stance he had seen him take before when he was furious with something. Hopefully he wouldn't go off the deep end this time and earn himself another Azkaban sentence.

Hermione's face was bright red as she looked between the two. Dropping her head, she made to move off of his lap but he kept his hands firmly around her. He wasn't letting her go at this moment. Not when they needed each other.

She gave him a pleading look that he ignored as he stared down the other wizard in the room. He hadn't gone for his wand yet which was both positive and unsettling.

"What's this all about then?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Antonin watched as he narrowed his eyes and took a few more steps closer to the couple. He eyed their figures up and down with distaste before meeting his gaze once more.

"I didn't realize it had gone this far," Black mumbled to himself.

"What's it matter?" Antonin deftly replied, quite unlike himself. Somewhere in the past few months, he had given up trying to talk himself out of it and was fully prepared for whatever consequences stemmed from whatever this was that he had with Hermione.

"You can't find any birds your own age so you start going after schoolgirl skirts? Has being a professor really made you that depraved these past few years?" He glared at the other man's accusatory voice. He didn't enjoy being called a pervert even if he did begin having inappropriate feelings for her sooner than he should have. He hadn't bloody acted on them.

And she was the only one. That had to account for something. Right?

"What?" Hermione suddenly chimed it, staring at Black with a mixture of shock and confusion.

Sirius looked down to Hermione with saddened eyes, "I think you were smarter than this, Hermione. He's over half your age. He was your professor for Godric's sake!"

Antonin had been prepared to say something. He wasn't going to let anyone, least of all this mangy dog, talk to Hermione in this manner. But the fire spit little Gryffindor beat him to it.

"Excuse you," she said as she climbed up and off of his lap, facing the older man with her hands on her hips. Antonin's head tilted slightly as he appreciated the sight she made; hair tumbling down her back, arse on presentation in her summer shorts.

"I'm a grown woman, Sirius Black. I have been since last year. And yes, he was my professor and I can admit to having a crush on him even then," it was a good thing she wasn't looking at him, his own cheeks had become slightly tinged at the admission. "But I wasn't only interested in him because of that! He's a wonderful man, you know that now!"

"Professor Dolohov is a great man and I've been coming to know Antonin in a similar way. This also wasn't some spur of the moment decision. We've been discussing this for years. Only recently had we decided to give this a try."

"Years?" Black muttered, a dark look in his eye. _Oh no…_

"So you really have been chasing schoolgirl skirt," he barked, causing Antonin to stand from his chair as well. Even though Black was taller than Hermione, he still towered over both of them.

"What we do is _none_ of your business," he warned.

"So fucking my godson's best friend is none of my business? Well then, let's just see what the rest of the Order have to say on that matter. Surely if it's not my business, then it's theirs. And your mother? Oh I can just see the disappointment now."

"You'd blackmail us?!" Hermione yelled in disbelief.

"I'm only looking out for you!" He countered. He could see Black's temper rising almost as fast as he could sense Hermione's. "You deserve better than some lustful old man using you."

"Using me?!" She sputtered, he quickly made a grab for her wrist when he saw her take a step forward. The last thing he needed was for the two of them to get into a fight. Muggle or magical, the results wouldn't be pretty.

"Yes, using you. You're probably just some challenge for him, Hermione. Why else would he be interested in you?"

"Maybe because he cares about me?!" The tiny witch in his hold struggled to get loose of him but he only continued to keep her back. This was getting out of control very quickly. He could physically feel the magical energy from the two crackling around him.

"You're too _young_ -"

"You don't know what you're _talking_ -"

" _Silencio_!"

All three looked up to see his mother standing in the doorway, one hand on her slim waist, the other gripping her wand as she glared dangerously at them.

"I heard you _downstairs._ You're lucky the Weasley's had gone back to the Burrow to prepare for the wedding and the rest of the Order is off working. But regardless of that, I would like to know why you two are screaming at each other."

Antonin and Black almost tripped over each other trying to speak at once,

"He started it-"

"Your son's a pervert-"

"Both of you," his mother warned, "Shut up."

Her gaze softened when it landed on his little witch, "Hermione, dear. Could you explain what has happened here?"

Hermione's face had turned a light shade of red as she mumbled out, "O-oh…" She cleared her throat a bit before speaking again, "Sirius walked in on Antonin and I in, um, a delicate situation."

"Delicate?" Sirius spat out.

"It was just snogging," Hermione rushed to say. But it ended up with Antonin reaching up to cup his forehead in his hand and groaning in embarrassment. He may be a forty-one-year-old man, but he would still never get over the feelings of discomfort at having his mother hear about his intimate activities. Lax as they were.

"Just snogging she says," Black replied with a roll of his eyes. "I know better than most what they will lead to."

His witch's eyes dropped as she realized how that had been taken and pressed herself back into his chest, keeping her hand intertwined with his own for support.

"This still doesn't explain why you were yelling at her Sirius," his mother added, looking straight at the now fidgeting man.

"I just don't like it…"

"Does their age bother you?" She asked kindly, walking closer to stand in front of the man. Even though she had to look up, the height difference didn't diminish the fact that Black was looking utterly defeated in the moment.

"I thought they were just using each other," he finally admitted. And Antonin's skin crawled at the mere thought of what he had been implying. He would never see Hermione as only a means of physical release. Just as he hoped she saw him more than just a protector or someone to 'give her attention' as Black had so eloquently put.

"Sirius, dear… I know for a fact that's not true. I've already spoken to both of them. They truly do care for one another on more than just a base level. I suspect it's been culminating for years now," she said with a secretive smile directed towards the couple. Both flushed under her attention much to the disgust of the dark haired Marauder.

"Well, I mean, it's kind of obvious that these two have been close. Now, I didn't really know just _how_ close until more recently…" He said with a look directed towards Hermione who then pressed her face into Antonin's arm to avoid the other wizard's gaze. "But still. They don't really do a good job of hiding it."

"What do you mean?" His mother asked curiously.

"They always had this weird friendship going on, I guess. And well, now 'Mione always smells like Dolohov. Like she had just come from bathing in his soap or something. I figured maybe it was just a weird coincidence.

"This is so embarrassing," he heard her mumble into his shirt sleeve.

"Maybe if we ignore them, they'll bugger off," he offered and smiled slightly at the choked bit of laughter she gave out. Unfortunately, though, that sound refocused the other's attention back onto them.

"What are you two conspiring about over there?" His mother asked.

"Just wondering when and if we'll regain our privacy," Antonin drawled out, chuckling when he heard his little witch's muffled giggles.

Sirius sighed deeply before looking back up at the pair, "Sorry I freaked out on you. But your mum's right. And I should have seen it coming anyways, what with the two of you always sneaking around."

"No hard feelings," Antonin said flippantly. Sirius smirked at him and turned to walk away as Antonin added,

"Oh, and Black? You and I will be having a talk later about your newfound hobby of _smelling_ my witch."

He wished the man had turned around. He would have loved to had seen the face that caused his mother to double over with laughter that racked her entire body.

Ah well, he'd just have to wait until that talk. He _was_ serious about it after all.

* * *

 _Tonight_ , Hermione had told herself at dinner.

She had been reading all about it and thought that she was finally reading to try it. She had found her courage through pretending to read and had initiated contact with him, doing everything the book had instructed her to do. She had even found her own pleasure by doing things differently from the written words.

It had been unscripted when she had ground herself against him but it made her feel so good. Hearing him moan into her mouth, feeling him hard beneath her… It was everything she had wanted. And when she had just been preparing for the next stage, Sirius had walked in…

How was she ever supposed to reclaim that moment now that they had just experienced the embarrassment of having his mom and Sirius practically walk in and then hear about the more intimate details of their relationship?

As soon as the two had left the room, Antonin had shut the door and warded it shut with a silencing charm for extra measure. He clearly didn't want any more unscripted guests for the evening. He sunk into his armchair with his hand rubbing the scruff along his jaw. He always did that when he was deep in thought.

He looked up and met her curious gaze, "I'm sorry about that. I had forgotten to ward the door."

"It's alright," she told him. And she meant it. It made it less awkward knowing that they now had three individuals in the house who knew about them. It made her feel a little less guilty about sneaking around with him. Even though she would continue to do it regardless.

She walked a few steps closer to him and he held out his hand for her to take. She didn't climb back into his lap though, she just took his hand and inspected it, still attempting to regain her bearings. She had been so prepared to do this earlier. She just needed to get a little of that courage back before it was too late.

"Hermione," she heard him husk out her name.

She met his intense, unblinking stare head-on. "What is it?" She asked innocently, not yet wanting to clue him into what was going on inside of her chaotic mind.

"You've got that look again," he told her.

"What look?"

"The one where I suspect you're about to do something reckless."

She took another step forward until she was standing in between his long legs. She was barely a foot taller than him while he was sitting but it still was nice to be able to look him in the eye better. Her hold on his hand dropped as she rested the tips of her fingers on his thighs.

"I don't know about reckless… But I wanted to try something. Is it okay if I did?"

He raised his brow in question, "Try what?"

"Pleasuring you again," she told him matter-of-factly. His mouth dropped open slightly and Hermione leaned closer to him, brushing her own against his as she whispered, "With my mouth."

She noticed the shudder that had gone through him and when she pulled back, she saw the approval in his eyes as his head gave the barest of nods. But she'd take it.

Dropping down onto her knees, she settled herself in between his spread legs, looking up at him to see if she should continue. He had nothing but anticipation written across his features. So she reached up to unbutton his trousers, unzipping him methodically before taking a deep breath and reaching in to release the semi-erect cock.

She ran her hand over it slowly, remembering the feel of it from all of the previous times he had allowed her to feel him. He watched her closely, she could physically feel his eyes roving from the top of her head to the hand that had wrapped around the length of him.

Hermione thought back to the trashy romance novel she had found in her bag. The girl in the story had blown on the tip first, stimulating the sensitive flesh. Mimicking the words, Hermione pursued her lips and blew lightly on the soft tip. The man above her gave a strangled sound as she felt his legs shift around her. _So he liked it_ , she thought smugly. Those books really were good for something.

Scooting herself even closer, she rested her elbows on his thighs and blew on it once more, loving the way it twitched and the accompanying groans that carried around the room.

" _Fuck,_ Hermione," she heard him say through clenched teeth. "Stop teasing me."

"Sorry," she replied with a coy smile, obviously not meaning it in the slightest. She ran her fingers over the thick vein on the side. "Your reactions are just interesting though," she told him. "And it _is_ my first time. I'm allowed to explore, aren't I, professor?"

He cursed in Russian at her usage of his previous title as she giggled quietly, still running her fingers over the smooth skin beneath her. She noticed the small drops of pre-cum that had begun to pool at the very tip. Pulling herself even closer, she kissed the top of him, finally getting to taste him for the first time. He was salty, but not in the bitter way the girl's in her dorm had talked about. She found that she actually _liked_ the taste of him.

Then, she decided, it was time.

She was careful with her teeth as she slid him inside of her mouth. Her tongue swirled against the underside of his shaft and he let out a string of profanities that had Hermione's gut clenching.

"Perfect. Bloody _perfect,_ Hermione," he told her, awe and arousal coating his voice. She loved the way he sounded. The way he praised her as she took the length of him into her mouth. She was a quick learner and that book had many tricks for her to try out. She probably wouldn't get to do them all at once, but she relished in the knowledge that there would be more opportunities.

Her brows were creased in concentration and she focused on the up and down motion. She tried not to get too distracted by the sounds he was making but it was hard not to. He sounded positively euphoric with her ministrations.

He was warm and thick in her mouth and she loved the way he stretched her. She didn't mind the feeling that she occasionally got where it was like she was about to choke. It went away the second she breathed through her nose and she could continue without pause.

"Deeper, _lyubimaya. Please_." She didn't know what the new endearment was, but she didn't have time to think much about it as she tried to do as he asked. She felt his hand tangled up with her hair as he helped to guide her in further.

The only problem she had was the longer hairs located above his cock would occasionally tickle her nose if she went down too far, but it was only a minor annoyance. The moans and reverently spoken fluent Russian made up for it tenfold.

She felt his hips roll underneath of her as well and knew that his release would be coming soon. Remembering one final trick that she desperately wanted to undertake, she waited until she heard his vocalization of his release and reached back into his trousers to gingerly squeeze the sacs at the base of his shaft.

He practically howled his orgasm as his body racked against her. She felt his seed spilling into the back of her throat and tried to swallow the best she could. But some of it began to leak out the sides of her mouth. She released his member with a faint 'pop' and licked the length of him as she listened to his ragged breathing.

"Am I still going to kill you?" She asked softly as she looked up into his half lidded, sated eyes.

He smirked slightly as he took her hands and pulled her back into his lap, wrapping his arms around her small frame. He tucked her underneath of his chin and she rested her head against his chest, listening to the sound of his rapid heartbeat begin to die down.

"Most assuredly."

* * *

Hermione had hugged her best friend with vigor after he had entered the Victorian style home.

Remus, Kingsley, and Moody had been able to extract Harry from the Dursley's without alerting Voldemort and smuggled him to Castle Combe. The perfect place, really, because no one even knew it existed, let alone that this was where the Order was hiding out.

Harry had taken introductions to Masha Dolohov with a smile on his face. He had even commented later to her that it had figured that the big, intimidating man had a tiny mother who bossed him around. He had already seen evidence of that with Mrs. Weasley and her sons and knew it was more common than people thought.

But then Harry had insisted that him, Ron, and Hermione talk privately. She had agreed after sharing a nervous glance with a suspicious Antonin. He had offered them the back study where Hermione and Masha had first talked about her feelings for her son.

The trio sat for what felt like hours, discussing everything Dumbledore had talked to Harry about before his death. He told them about Horcruxes and how Voldemort had created six of them. Harry had inadvertently destroyed the diary and the Headmaster had destroyed a ring, but that still left four.

It was Harry's, and now his friend's, mission to find and destroy the remaining ones. In doing so, they'd finally be able to defeat Voldemort once and for all.

"Vol-" Ron hissed out a warning and Harry rubbed his face in annoyance, "Right, sorry. You-Know-Who needs to be mortal before he can finally die. Now, remind me again why I can't say his name?"

"He forced Professor Dolohov to make a charm that sends out the location of whoever says his name to the nearest Death Eater," Ron explained.

"Wow… I guess it makes sense. He always did want his name to be feared," Harry admitted begrudgingly.

"You know Harry…" Ron brought up hesitantly. "You're taking this whole Dolohov thing pretty well. I mean, we're staying in his house with his family and he's still technically a Death Eater."

"It's not by choice, Ronald," Hermione snapped back.

"Hermione's right," Harry said with a nod, surprising both of them. "He won't betray us like Snape did."

"How do you figure, mate?"

"He's a good guy," was all her best friend said. And Hermione wondered just what Antonin had done to win her emerald eyed friend over to his side.

"So, Horcrux hunting?" Ron said after the brief pause.

"Yeah, as soon as possible," Harry told the two of them.

"After the wedding," Hermione compromised. Knowing that Harry wouldn't want to wait too long but that Ron wouldn't miss his eldest brother's nuptials.

"Alright."

"Sounds good."

"It's settled. I'll start packing now so that we can be ready to go at a moment's notice."

And she'd have to tell Antonin eventually. He wouldn't just let her leave with a proper explanation. She knew him well enough. He didn't just forget either. Sirius learned that the hard way as well.


	15. Year ? - Part Five

**_Year ? – Part Five_**

Hermione sucked in a deep breath as she rested her hand on the brass doorknob.

She needed to tell Antonin about their plan. She had put it off for three days now but tomorrow was the reception for the wedding. After that was the event itself. And after that? She'd be leaving for an indeterminable amount of time with Ron and Harry to look for pieces of Voldemort's soul.

It was now or never and she couldn't just leave without telling him. He's been onto her anyways, she just knows it. He just hasn't pushed for any information like the gentleman he is. Or perhaps he just thinks it's something else. Her brain hurts just thinking about it. She wished it didn't have to be as complicated as it was.

In a perfect world, she'd tell him, he'd understand, and they'd live happily ever after once Voldemort was destroyed. No one would die, no one would get hurt, and the Light would win. But that was something even her eleven-year-old self wouldn't have believed. It was entirely too unrealistic and she prided herself on being practical.

Turning the handle, she stepped inside of the room. Looking from the bed to the armchair, she quickly noticed that he wasn't even there. It was one in the morning. Had he just not come back from work yet? She looked at his nightstand and spotted the familiar patterns that adorn his wand. So he was here. Most likely just in the shower.

She exited the room quietly and padded down the hallway. Hearing the shower running, she checked the lock to the bathroom and saw that it was released. Hermione looked down both sides of the hallway to make sure she was clear before opening the bathroom door and slipping inside.

The warmth of the steam hit her almost immediately. As did the overwhelming smell of sandalwood. She saw his robes neatly folded on the counter beside a pair of his cotton pajama bottoms. Closing the bathroom door with an audible 'clink,' she waited a moment as she saw a hand reach from behind the curtain to pull it out of the way a bit.

"It's just me," she told him as he fixed her with a befuddled expression. He greatly resembled a confused puppy in that moment and Hermione had to bite her bottom lip to keep herself from giggling at him.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, concern evident in his voice. She shook her head and kept a small smile playing on her face as he nodded slightly before releasing the curtain, allowing it to fall back into place. The sound of water hitting his body returned as she gingerly sat down on the closed toilet lid.

"How was work today?" She asked conversationally, not wanting to get right into the nitty gritty just yet. She'd work her way there. Eventually.

"You make it sound as though I have a 9-5," she heard him reply dryly. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes because he wouldn't be able to see her anyways, she waited a moment before she heard him sigh and continue, "It was the same as it always is. Tedious and draining."

"I'm sorry…" She whispered.

"It isn't your fault, _moy svet_. I made this choice long ago and I'll live with it for as long as it's required of me."

A few minutes passed by them in comfortable silence before Hermione asked a different question, "Are you going to Bill and Fleur's wedding?"

"I was invited. I may try to sneak in for a bit, provided of course that you'll be in attendance?" His veiled way of saying that he'll only go if she does. She snorted out a laugh and heard his own deep chuckles from behind the curtain.

"As an honorary Weasley, it's expected of me," she told him.

"Honorary Weasley? That doesn't include dyeing your hair some ridiculous shade of red, does it? I may have to rethink our current standing if that is the case," she heard him tease.

"You'd break up with me just because I dyed my hair?" She admonished with feigned hurt in her voice.

"If it was red, I'm afraid so," he spoke with an air of feigned regret that had Hermione issuing a silencing charm before she clutched her stomach from an overexertion of laughter.

"That's horrible!" she cried in between gasps of breath.

"You _have_ seen their hair, haven't you? I most certainly have, seeing as I've taught all seven of them."

"Antonin!" She chastised as more laughter racked her small frame. It was moments like these that she loved the most. The familiarity of the situation, the domestic feeling of it all. She'd never grow tired of it. She wanted it for as long as she could have it.

"Hush, _pchelka_. I'm trying to shower."

She raised a brow that he couldn't see as she continued to watch the moving curtain. A horrible idea struck her and impulsiveness caused her to act on it. Hermione stripped out of her nightwear in record time before pulling back the shower curtain to reveal the nude man behind it.

He didn't notice her at first, leading her to deftly maneuver herself in between him and the wall of the shower, also attempting to not slip on the wet floor at the same time.

"Well, now we're both showering. So I think I can say whatever I want," she told him cockily as she watched him jump with satisfaction.

" _Sukin syn_!" He cursed as he realized that she was directly behind him. And then she saw his body tense at what must have been his slow realization that she was directly behind him _in the shower_.

"Hermione…" She heard him mutter.

"Yes?" She spoke softly, trying her best to sound innocent in a situation that most assuredly was not.

"Are you comfortable with this?"

She scrunched her brows together in confusion as she asked, "With what?"

"Me seeing you naked," he told her simply. She sucked in a quick breath as she realized that this actually would be his first time seeing her completely naked. He had occasionally touched, or well, brushed by the more intimate points of her body but he had never seen her.

Was it okay? He was giving her the option to spare herself the embarrassment and awkwardness but she found herself less inclined to care. She had already seen every inch of him. She was ready for him to see her. She wanted him to see her.

"It's alright," she breathed out before holding it as he turned around slightly. He held her gaze as he turned the rest of the way. When they were facing each other and the water was being blocked by his shoulders and upper back, he let his gaze fall from her eyes to her neck and down her collarbone before sweeping to her pert breasts.

He eyed them hungrily for a moment before continuing his trek down her stomach to the curve of her hips and legs. He tried not to stare at the apex of her thighs but she knew that he would be interested in that as well. He was just trying not to startle or scare her too much.

"Well?" She asked with a growing flush spreading across her face. Being critiqued was never her strongest point and his slow perusal of her body was getting to be just a bit uncomfortable. And the silence was beginning to unnerve her.

" _Sovershenstvo…_ " He said in complete awe. "You're beautiful, Hermione. Never doubt that."

"Will you touch me?" She asked hesitantly. He met her gaze again and she saw that his pupils were already blown. He wanted her. And she wanted him. More than anything in this world.

"I can touch you," he conceded as he took a single step forward in the already cramped space. His warm and wet hand raised to run from her cheek down to her shoulder. He cupped one of her breasts gently and flicked his thumb over her hardening nipple. She caught his smirk as she let out a soft mewling sound.

His hands played with her sensitive flesh idly as he seemed to listen to each individual sound she made with his different types of ministrations. Every passing second only served in continuing the growing heat that had appeared in her belly at his intense stare of her naked body. She felt a dampness in between her legs and pinched them tightly together as Antonin's hand began to snake lower to her stomach and then hip.

"Tell me no," she heard his low voice directly beside her ear as his fingers drummed lightly on her hip. Her first impulse was to say no, to deny him entrance to the special place on her body that only she had ever tentatively touched. But she was done being the shy virgin. She knew he would wait if she asked but she was done making him be patient.

"Touch me," she practically begged of him. And he most certainly did.

His finger slid expertly into her wet folds and she leaned against his dripping body for support as he stroked her overly stimulated core. Her breath was coming out in huffs against his skin and she grabbed fruitlessly at his hair smattered chest. She just needed something to do with her hands.

She felt a growing pressure begin to build up that caused her to continuously chant, "Don't stop, please don't stop, _right there_."

His head was angled by the side of her head and she could hear him crooning to her in Russian as her first orgasm hit her hard. She cried out at the unfamiliar sensation of tingling nerves and the absolute euphoric feeling of release.

He continued to lightly stroke her as the hype began to wear down and she was left feeling like a large bag of literal jam. His free arm was helping to hold up her slumped over body and was soon joined by the other.

"Do you need to sit down?" He asked her with a mischievous lilt to his voice. She whacked him halfheartedly on the shoulder as she struggled to stand alone on her wobbly legs. His chuckles reached her ears as he attempted to assist her in the simple process of standing.

"I think… I'm good now," she gasped out, still feeling a bit lightheaded from the intense assault of experiencing her first release.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" She heard him drawl out. Choking on a laugh, she looked up into his amused gaze and smiled brightly.

"I did. You look like you did as well," she teased as he gave her a toothy grin.

"I think I much prefer this form of showering."

* * *

" _You want to hunt what_?!" Antonin yelled as he sat up straight in bed to glare down at the wide eyed witch next to him. After their impromptu shower and a very cute drying session where she insisted on towel drying his hair because she wanted to see what the curly mess would look like, they had settled down and he had _thought_ that they would be getting some restful sleep at such a late hour.

Then she tells him that after the eldest Weasley's wedding she's leaving with the other two thirds of the problematic Golden Trio to go searching for something to help end the war. And when he had asked what…

"Horcruxes! You're looking for Horcruxes!" He barked, completely incensed in the fact that his quasi-girlfriend would be out looking for pieces of his psychotic boss' soul with nothing but Potter and Weasley as backup.

"It's not that big of a deal…" She tried to say.

"Not a big deal? Hermione do you have _any_ idea of the level of Dark magic it takes to forcibly rip your soul apart once? And you're telling me that the Dark Lord has done it _six times_?!"

"We only need to find four. Two have already been destroyed," she mumbled, watching him carefully as she sat up next to him. He ran his hand through his naturally wavy hair in frustration.

"That's supposed to make me feel better? Do you even know what the other four are?"

"Harry thinks one is a locket that once belonged to Salazar Slytherin."

Antonin's face dropped as he stared in annoyance at his little witch. "Hermione…. That hasn't been seen in _years._ "

"Surely someone has seen it. And we've got to try to find it. That's the job Dumbledore left us-"

"Dumbledore is _dead_. And he left the job for _Potter_. You need not have any part in the matter," he grumbled, quickly crossing his arms in defense as he caught the growing glare on her pretty face.

Why did she have to be attractive even when angered? This didn't bode well for whatever spat they were about to have.

"I don't like it any more than you do. But it's going to happen. I promised Harry that I would go with him and I'm not leaving him to do this on his own," she responded carefully, making sure he understood her words.

"I curse Gryffindor honor," he muttered under his breath as he threw back the covers to get out of the bed. He couldn't think, he couldn't release any of this tension by just sitting there.

"What was that?" She asked hotly.

He turned his head to meet her eye as he told her, "I _curse_ Gryffindor honor."

"Antonin!" He heard her call as he stood from the bed and went to grab his wand. He was going outside. He desperately needed air before his blood pressure got the better of him and he keeled over from a stroke.

He made his way downstairs and out the backdoor before he could blink an eye. The clear night sky brought him a bit of comfort as he collapsed down onto the grassy area. He didn't care that he was only in pajama bottoms or that the air was just a bit nippy. He needed this.

A few moments passed by before he heard the sound of grass crackling as someone came to stand next to him. He went to look over but Hermione plopped herself down onto his lap before he could say anything. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed her face into the crook. He could feel the wetness on her cheeks and closed his eyes in humiliation. Had he really reduced her to tears yet again?

"I'm sorry," he heard her sniffle out. He wrapped his own arms around her and kept her close.

"No, _moy svet_ … It's my fault. I shouldn't have shouted. I just… I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to handle what you had told me."

"I don't want to leave you…" She told him, but he could already sense what was about to come next. "But I _promised_. And he needs my help. Those two won't be able to do it without me."

He choked on a laugh as he pressed his face into her shoulder. "I don't know how you plan to do it with only them for support."

"That's mean," she said softly as she snuggled closer to him.

"That's the harsh truth of the matter," he told her. "How do you even expect to find Slytherin's locket if you don't know where it is?"

"We start with what we know. A person with the initials RAB took it from where it had originally been hidden," she told him. _RAB_ … Why did he know that?

"Black…" He whispered as it started to click in his head.

"Antonin?" Hermione said, lifting her head from his shoulder to look up at him in confusion.

"Black. Regulus Arcturus Black," he told her. He remembered Regulus from school. The boy had aspired to be like him because of his vast knowledge of spells. Antonin hadn't minded him nearly as much as he had Crouch and Avery. He had even been forlorn to hear about the boy's death at only nineteen.

"How do you do that?" She asked in absolute shock.

"Do what?"

"Be so _bloody_ amazing!" She squealed as she hugged him tightly, planting her lips overtop of his own. He didn't really know what the big fuss was about. But if she kissed him like this every time he answered a questioned for her, he'd gladly do it more often.

"We have our first lead. If we can find out where Regulus hid the locket, we can find it and destroy it!" She enthusiastically informed him.

He hated the rain on her newfound good mood, but… "That still leaves three that you don't know," he reminded her.

"The snake. His snake. It also has to be one. I've thought about that for a while now."

Nagini? Hermione was right. It made sense that he'd keep a piece of his soul inside of his familiar. And it was always so close to him. It also possessed its own strange breed of dark magic. Antonin had once thought that it was just his lord's aura rubbing off on the beast but now that there was a possibility of it being a Horcrux…

"But the other two?"

Hermione's face fell a bit as her brows furrowed like they often did when she found herself deep in thought. Antonin often wanted to rub his thumbs over them to soothe her but refrained because he knew it would be unwelcomed in the moment. Eventually he just might. At least to see her reaction.

"I don't know yet. But we will find out. It's the only way that we can ever hope to actually destroy You-Know-Who and end this war," she told him. "I know you can't come with us… But will you still help?"

"Yes. Whenever you need me Hermione… I will be there," he promised. His hand tightened on her waist as he stared deep into her intoxicating eyes. "I told you once that I would protect you. I haven't given up on that yet."

"I know you haven't… Like when you got rid of Lestrange after he attacked me."

He nodded slowly and she watched his expressions close up with a critical eye. "Did you kill him?" She asked after a brief pause.

"Would it bother you if I said yes?"

"No," she said. And he could tell that she meant it.

"Then yes. I killed him."

"Thank you," she said sweetly as she pressed her lips against his once again. He never had someone thank him for murder before. But in this case, it was justifiable.

"Anytime," he muttered back into her lips.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

* * *

Hermione wore red for the wedding.

It wasn't just because it was her house colors and she wanted to feel close to them again, but Ginny had told her that she looked h-o-t in it and, well, if Antonin would be here…

She chastised herself for her childish behavior. She had no reason to not be secure with their relationship. But she could help but let her eye wander around to Fleur's beautiful, blonde side of the family. She would hope that her wizard's eye wouldn't wander that far but she wasn't interested in finding out.

The wedding itself was a rather small affair but there were enough people to keep things interesting. Plenty of interesting conversation. And the decorations were beautiful. Almost as grand as the newlyweds themselves. Even if Fleur hadn't been a quarter veela, Hermione suspected she still would have outshined everyone around them in that gorgeous dress.

She could only hope to one-day shine as much as the French woman did on her own wedding day.

Smiling to herself from the corner of the tent, she continued to watch the happy couple spin on the dancefloor, completely entranced with each other. They really were a match made in heaven, she thought.

"Forgoing dancing, _pchelka_? Can't say that I blame you," a voice from behind her spoke with a sarcastic wit about it. She felt the small smile on her face grow into a full-fledged grin as she turned to take in the sight of the familiarly dark haired man in a black Muggle suit.

And his tie was red.

"Were you purposely trying to match with me?" She asked coyly as she inclined her head to his matching garment.

He raised a brow as he looked from her down to his tie and back again. "A happy coincidence. Has nothing to do with the peek I took inside of the box that you had sitting in our room for the past few days."

"Mhmm," she hummed as she took the hand he offered to her. He raised it to his lips and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles, holding her gaze the entire time.

"You look lovely, as always. But I do think red suits you best."

"Really? I always thought purple suited you the best," she told him and giggled at the face he made.

"You sound like my mother."

"It that a bad thing?"

"I do not want to have sex with my mother, Hermione," he grumbled out and she quickly raised herself up on her tiptoes to press a small kiss at the line of his clean shaven jaw. He must have shaved right before he came here. Usually he'd already have five o'clock shadow if he had done so last night or even this morning.

"I'll trust that you mean that."

"Minx," he muttered as he took hold of her hand again and led her out on the main floor of the tent.

"What are you doing?" She gasped as she saw that he was dragging her out onto the dancefloor. Did he expect-? But all the people!

" _We_ are dancing. I didn't get the chance to enjoy one with you at Horace's lousy Christmas party. I intend to do so now," he deftly informed her.

"He lets you call him Horace?" She asked with a snort as she momentarily forgot about why she was supposed to be feeling anxious.

"I haven't been his student for over twenty years. It would be quite strange if I continued to refer to him as professor. Especially once we became colleagues."

"Point taken," she told him as he moved one of his hands to her waist and used the other to intertwine their fingers. She placed her free hand on his shoulder and allowed him to take the lead as the traditional waltz music began to play.

"Where did you learn to dance?" She asked him after they got the hang of the other's movements and drastically different size. She was honestly surprised that even though he was over a foot taller than her he still made a wonderful dancing partner.

"My mother taught me," he replied.

"How did that even work? Did you just learn really young, like before you hit your growth spurt, or what?" She giggled slightly at the mental image of a tiny Antonin dancing with his taller mother instead of the other way around.

"She'd wear obnoxious heels and step on my feet purposely if I mocked her for it." Hermione burst out into laughter at his revelation and looked up to see the warm smile on his face matched her own.

"My parents made me take lessons," she admitted to him.

"Then they paid off. You dance quite well."

"Don't tell them that. They still think I'm a complete and utter klutz."

He snorted in disbelief as he twirled her before bringing her back close to him, "Nonsense. You're nothing like Tonks who possessed the worst equilibrium I have ever had the misfortune of seeing. But…" She met his contemplative stare with narrowed eyes at his next choice of words, "I do remember a certain first year who got stuck on the stairs and had absolutely no idea how to stand on her own."

"I was eleven," she admonished.

"You were adorable," he chuckled. "Part of the reason why I felt so inclined to help you at the time. I was also afraid that you might have been thrown from the stairwell if you weren't careful. How much did you weigh at the time, a quarter of a stone?"

"Git," she teased as she shook her head in disbelief. He enjoyed teasing her far too much.

"Antonin-" She started. This moment was too good to pass up. It was now or never, she had told herself. She needed to leave him with the secure knowledge that she loved him. Which meant she actually had to _tell_ him.

He looked at her expectantly until a gasp sounded from nearby them and the bright, white ethereal light of a patronus appeared in the middle of the tent.

The voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt came from the lynx: " _The Ministry has fallen. Scimageour is dead. They are coming_."

Panic set in almost immediately, but Antonin kept her secure in his arms as he turned to face her.

"I have to go," they both blurted out at the same time. Smiles appeared on both of their faces and he leaned close to her and brushed a kiss against her lips.

"Please… take care of yourself. Call for me if you find yourself in danger. Come to Castle Combe when you need a safe house. It will always be yours as much as mine," he told her quickly.

"Antonin-" She started but he grimaced in pain and released her to clutch his left forearm.

"Go, Hermione! Be careful!"

And he was gone. Her next words stuck on the tip of her tongue.

"Hermione!" She heard Harry yell, snapping her out of the brief fog she had found herself in. She turned towards his voice and ran to grab onto his and Ron's arms, apparating the three of them away and into downtown London where they could officially begin the start of their hunt.

This war needed to end and soon.

She had a man that needed to know he was loved.


	16. Year H - Part One

**_Year H – Part One_**

The three of them sat silently in the rundown looking café. After changing cloths, they had gone into the first abandoned looking place they could find. And having a little bit of caffeine would start their journey off on the right foot.

Hermione took a tentative sip of her latte and relished in the comforting warmth it provided. This would be a hard task, she could see it in her best friends' eyes, but it would be worth it in the end. They would end this war and rid the world of a dark wizard. Well… _darker_ wizard.

"So Professor Dolohov figures we should start at Grimmauld Place," Harry says quietly, hunching forward so that the three of them can have a private conversation. Even though the only other person in the establishment is the waitress who just walked into the back.

But more importantly…

"When did he tell you this?" Hermione demanded. She hadn't exactly let the man out of her sights much but he still found time to relay information to Harry?

"The morning after I got there. We sat down for a while to discuss some stuff," he deflected. Hermione's eyes narrowed as Harry looked away from her. He was purposely keeping something from her just like before. And it involved Antonin again. What were those two conspiring about?

"And he thinks Grimmauld Place has a Horcrux in it?" Ron asked after taking a long swig of his coffee.

"He thinks it has a clue at the very least. We just have to look, I guess. But the sooner we do this, the weaker Voldemort will get," Harry muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

"We can head there after we finish. But we'll have to be careful. Snape let slip the location of the previous headquarters, so we'll have to check to make sure there aren't any Death Eaters that have been tasked to patrol or stake out the place," Hermione said, beginning to strategize. She'd spent enough time talking to Antonin about it as well, and he'd warned her of the dangers often enough in their last few days together.

They could do this. She knew they could. There was really only so much that could go wrong.

"Guys…" Ron stammers out, looking up and past them towards the door. Turning slightly, Hermione catches the hulking blonde figure of Thorfinn Rowle out of the corner of her eye before she propels herself off of the chair and underneath a nearby table.

She felt magical energy crackle around them as Rowle began to attack them. Harry had ducked underneath of a table as well while Ron had managed to get behind the counter and was using it as cover.

Colors were flying all across the enclosed space. Hermione tried to keep her head down but senses alert as she crawled underneath chairs and debris. A bloodcurdling scream rang out suddenly and Hermione tried to move a bit faster. She needed to get to cover to help whoever had gotten hurt. She couldn't tell if it was Harry or Ron by the sound alone.

She went under yet another table but bumped her head into a solid mass that appeared in front of her. Looking up, she saw it was a black clad leg attached to matching dragonhide boots. She moved as if to back up, but the figure that went along with the leg crouched down and she was left gazing into the dark brown eyes of the man she had left on the dancefloor barely an hour ago.

"Are you hurt?" He asked as he reached a hand out for her. She shook her head as she took his offered limb and allowed him to help her out from underneath of the café table. Once she was on her feet, she turned to look around the at the disarray they had caused.

But the shocking part happened to be her two best friends standing over something on the ground. Starting towards them, the light grip on her wrist suddenly hardened and she turned over her shoulder to look at Antonin's cryptic expression.

"He's dying," was all her wizard gave her.

 _Rowle_ … She figured, looking back over to Harry and Ron's sullen forms. She looked a bit closer to the floor and could make out the shaking form of the burly blonde man. Slight whimpers filled the air until it went dead silent and the sound of skittering across the floor ceased.

"What did you do?" Hermione asked curiously, turning to look up at her blank faced lover. His eyes dropped down for a moment before he pinned her with one of his intense prolonged stares.

"I used the same curse that he aimed for you. The sensation is that of thousands of needles being injected into you until the nervous system shuts down and suffocation begins," he explained quietly.

She turned suddenly, surprised that it could have been her dead on the floor if the older wizard hadn't showed up in time, and watched Harry and Ron move away from the unmoving body on the café floor. They came closer to the two of them and looked up at their once professor.

"Thanks for saving us, professor," Ron mumbled after a brief pause passed over the four of them.

"Yes… About that," Antonin started, a strange glint in his eye as he turned to fully face her best friends. He crossed his arms across his chest as he fixed them with a look that all of them knew too well. It was the same that he normally sported when he was teaching a Slytherin was getting too close to breaking his rules and bigotry.

It was purely dangerous.

 _And offhandedly sexy_ , Hermione added as a second thought.

"Which one of you two morons spoke the Dark Lord's name?" He spat out as Hermione watched the two boys' eyes widen into saucers. They looked fearfully at one another before turning back to the glaring man in front of them.

"Um… It was me, sir…" Harry said nervously, shifting from one foot to another as the weight of Antonin's stare hit him.

"And, pray tell why you chose to do such an _idiotic_ thing when I _specifically_ sat you down _not_ 48 hours ago to explain why you _could not_ do such an act?" He enunciated carefully, his ire magically growing as the seconds ticked by. Hermione was glad that it wasn't directed at her. But even then, she had her own ways of settling the man's temper. Ones that she doubted her best friend would be comfortable attempting.

Not that Antonin would let him either.

"I forgot…" Harry whispered as he too began to feel the brunt of Antonin's dark magical energy swirling around them.

"You forgot… You endangered your own life and those of your friends because you _forgot_ …" Antonin's voice was calm but Hermione could still feel the tension rolling off of him in waves. "It was a careless mistake that was made less than a bloody _hour_ of being on your own. And you still think you can do this mission on your own?"

"I have help," Harry tried to throw out weakly, but Antonin was right. The three of them had the odds stacked against them and they weren't even starting off on the right foot.

"You need more help," the older male told him as he turned from the boy and waved his wand over the forgotten body of Rowle. It completely disappeared before their eyes and the café began to right itself.

Harry nodded his head slightly as he went to sit at a table with Ron who was nursing a bruised arm. Hermione stood silently next to Antonin as he rechecked the wards he must have set up inside and around the building.

"How did you know we were here?" She asked after a few minutes passed by.

"I didn't," he admitted. "I was told to come here as backup for Rowle. But imagine my surprise when I find him attacking the three of you," he added darkly, clearing still unhappy with the circumstances.

"Is that why you killed him?"

"He was dead regardless. All that was left to identify was when and where. He presented the situation himself," Antonin's tone was cold and Hermione missed his warmth. But he was upset with them. They had been apart for less than an hour and already he was having to clean up their mess. She would be disappointed as well.

"We can do this," she told him suddenly, feeling the need to defend herself and her best friends. She saw his gaze slide to her for a moment before he went back to obliviating the waitress.

"I believe that you think you can," were his only words to her. She felt her spirits dampen as his words sunk in. He didn't believe in them… Did he really think this was as hopeless as she secretly feared it was? Or were they just not prepared for it?

"Hermione," she looked up at her name and locked eyes with exhausted brown. "I don't say this to be cruel. But you three need to be highly prepared for this excursion. You will be dealing with the depravity of dark magic and the inhumane. That alone can be dangerous. Add in the factors of this being a war and the enemy being in possession of these objects…"

"I know," she told him as he trailed off. "But we have to try. There isn't any way for this to end unless we find and destroy these Horcruxes."

"I'm aware," he uttered softly. "The Dark Lord will not fall unless all parts of his soul are found and destroyed."

"Exactly…" She took a tentative step closer to her, keeping in mind the fact that her best friends were still across the room from them and she wasn't exactly ready to have a conversation with them about the closeness between her and the older wizard. "Do you trust me?"

He watched her closely before he gave a nod of his head. "Then let me do this."

"I'll let you do this…" He spoke slowly, gauging her reaction as he continued, "But I will be there to help you whenever I can. Do not ever feel as though you are without options, Hermione. I will solve any puzzle, go any distance, and kill _anyone_ for you and you alone."

"Antonin…"

His eyes flicked up for a moment to look at her companions, "I'll make it seem as though I walked in on Rowle's dead body and no trace of whoever spoke the Dark Lord's name. You three should go now."

She wished she could just say it. But she was too self-conscious of Harry and Ron and the moment seemed awkward and he probably wouldn't appreciate it right now. He seemed far too tense to be alright with any declarations of love.

But maybe there was something…

Reaching into her extended purse, she rummaged around for a moment before pulling out one of the DA's extra galleons. She, Harry, and Ron still had theirs even after the rest of the members gave theirs back. She had forgotten about them until now and knew that they would still come in handy as she pressed it into her wizard's hand.

"They're enchanted," she blurted out, watching him eye it curiously. "You can communicate with the three of us and we can do the like with you. It's safer than sending patronuses or owls."

"Brilliant," he murmured before meeting her eye. "Did you make it yourself?"

She beamed under his praise and nodded earnestly as he rolled the coin around in his fingers before slipping it into his pants pocket. "It'll work for this situation. Contact me as frequently as you can. I'll pass along the information to the Order as well."

Hermione took his hand before he could move away from her. "This _will_ work," she told him.

"You know," he said with a deep exhale, "With all the times you've said that same phrase, I think I may just be beginning to believe it."

* * *

Three days. That was how long it had taken them to find the first Horcrux.

It could've taken months if they hadn't been given Antonin's solid lead to search through Sirius' younger brother's possessions. And then when they found Kreacher with it, they thought they had hit the hunting jackpot. The only problem was figuring out how to destroy the dark artifact.

She had spent many a nights just sitting on the floor of their tent with her charmed Galleon in hand, talking through the different theories with Antonin. He was more knowledgable on the subject and had plenty of dark tomes on the subject. Sometimes it helped having a boyfriend who knew so much about the dark arts.

Fiendfyre seemed like the most common but dangerous of the destruction methods. Basilisk venom was another but that seemed too improbable to get to. They were quickly running out of options when it came to destroying the cursed locket.

"What about the fangs from the Basilisk's skeleton? That thing is still probably sitting in the Chamber of Secrets," she wondered aloud as she flipped the gold coin around in her hand. It was a growing force of habit that she'd picked up since beginning her late night chats with Antonin.

"It's plausible, but you'd have to get into Hogwarts first. With Snape as the new headmaster, there's only a small chance of you three getting in or out without injury," his familiar voice came back from the heated metal in her hand.

Her head fell back against the wooden beam as she let out an irritated noise. "What about locking the damned thing in a box of Fiendfyre?"

"Too risky," came his equally annoyed tone.

"So we're left with no other option but to break into Hogwarts and try to get some Basilisk fangs?"

"What did I tell you about options, Hermione?" He asked cryptically.

"That you'd take care of it if need be…"

"Then that's exactly what I plan to do. Did you forget that I am still a high ranking Death Eater? I can show up at the school if I want to. Make up some business about investigating, get your Basilisk fangs, and deliver them to you without question."

"Antonin, if you can do that…"

" _If_ she says," came his amused reply. She fell into a fit of giggles as she ran her thumbs over the smooth object, pretending for a moment that it was Antonin's fingers. "I miss you…"

"I miss you too. But if this goes according to plan, I will see you very soon."

"If? Now who's doubting whom?" She teased and smiled softly as she heard his accompanying chuckles.

A week later she had gotten the message that he was indeed successful. They met alone in a Muggle village outside of the Forest of Dean in a small inn. He had the fangs in a shrunken box that he passed to her quickly before wrapping her in his arms, pressing a long kiss into the top of her curls.

They stood like that for what felt like hours before he finally relaxed his tight grip and allowed her to sit down with him. They had talked idly about what they had been doing and Antonin continuously made sure that she was alright and that they were taking the proper precautions.

"Will you destroy it tonight?" He asked after they had fallen into a comfortable silence.

"Hopefully. I don't know which of us will do it though. I don't trust Harry to do it. He keeps having these strange… visions or nightmares or something. It gets worse when he wears the locket," Hermione explained to him.

"Are they becoming more frequent?" He asked calmly. Almost too much so in Hermione's opinion.

"I suppose so…" She responded slowly, watching her wizard carefully as he nodded thoughtfully.

"Do you know something I don't?"

"I know lots of things that you don't know, _pchelka_. But I also have over twenty years on you," he replied flippantly, causing her to narrow her eyes in annoyance.

"Not what I meant," she grumbled, even more irritated with the growing smirk on his face.

"I know. But it is fun to watch your ire show."

The smile dropped quickly from his face though as he asked his next question, "What will you do after the locket it destroyed?"

She clicked her fingers idly on the table as she weighed his question, "Well, Harry keeps having this vision of a cup. It's small and golden. The only solid clue he has about it though is the words 'Fortius Quo Fidelius.'"

"Gringotts," Antonin said automatically.

"What?"

"Those are the words for Gringotts. Strength Through Loyalty."

"Why do you even know that?" She sputtered out, completely amazed by this man. He didn't even blink an eye as he continued to practically solve their mysteries. Takes one to know one she supposed.

"I once applied for a job there. Dropped out when Death Eater duties became too strenuous, but I educated myself on the establishment nonetheless."

"So there's a Horcrux in Gringotts… That's a smart hiding place. It's impenetrable."

"Then you'll just have to test that theory," he said with a small smile. "Or find help in the matter."

"Find help…?"

"The goblins, Hermione."

"You think one of them would help us?"

Antonin shrugged his shoulders, "I'm not entirely sure. But most do not support the Dark Lord. If you were to figure out which vault the cup is in and procure the key or even the wand of the person who owns the vault, you could persuade a goblin to escort you to the vault with the promise of defeating the Dark Lord."

"It's a chance… But it's the only one we're got," she muttered. "Do you have any idea what vault he would put it in? Does he have his own?"

"No, he wouldn't have his own…" Antonin said softly, deep in thought as the few lines on his forehead appeared. "But most of his followers have ones, being rich purebloods. If you can figure out which-" But he was cut off as a hiss escaped through his lips and his left arm jerked, hitting the table harshly.

"You have to go," she finished for him. He nodded begrudgingly, giving her a quick peck on the lips before standing from the table and taking measured steps out the door.

When he was gone, Hermione sat for a few minutes, just weighing her conversation with him. They just needed to figure out which of Voldemort's followers would have his Horcrux. Then, it was just a matter of getting inside of the vault itself.

But, she herself said that this wouldn't be easy.

She just didn't realize how _hard_ it was going to be.


	17. Year H - Part Two

**_Year H – Part Two_**

They were dead.

She knew they were. It had all happened so suddenly. They had been leaving Mr. Lovegood's when Snatcher's appeared. After being chased for what seemed like miles, they had been caught. Hermione was close to tears as she struggled fruitlessly in the arms of a disgusting man named Scabior.

He was dragging the three of them to Malfoy Manor. At least she had the foresight to hex Harry with a stinging jinx, making him unrecognizable. But regardless, she and Ron had been easily identifiable.

When they approached the magnificent but deathly looking manor, she felt her heart sink. There was no getting out of this. She had left the galleon in her purse that a snatcher had ahold of and her wand was in Scabior's back pocket. She was completely helpless and there was no Professor Dolohov to save them this time.

The gate's opened magically and they were drug up the long pathway to the enormous front doors. Greyback knocked and when the door opened, Hermione wanted to begin sobbing. Standing there was the she-devil herself, Bellatrix Lestrange. The most fervent and psychotic of Voldemort's supporters.

"Well, well, well… What do we have here?" She cooed. The Snatchers gave her a brief explanation and the witch's eyes lit up in delight as she raked them across the three of them. Hermione felt like a mouse caught in a trap.

"Pettigrew! Take them to the dungeons. I'll figure out what to do with them in a moment," she cackles as the rat Animagus leads them into the manor and down a sudden set of spiral stairs. Hermione got dizzy from all the motions of it, watching each stone pass her by in quick succession. When they finally reached the obvious dungeon, Pettigrew shoved Harry and Ron into separate cells before dragging Hermione down past them and pushing her roughly into a seemingly empty cell.

She hit the ground and turned to see Pettigrew locking the door and walking off, ignoring the yells of Ron as he banged on his cell's door. Stepping backward until she hit the wall, she slid down to the ground and hugged her knees to her chest. She was stuck here. She was stuck until they decided to kill her.

Had she ever felt so discouraged in her life? Possibly. But the thought of being rescued always struck her as well. She could count on Antonin to save her. But in this moment, she just couldn't. There was no way for him to be reached. There was no way he would be able to save her without killing them both.

For once in her life, she didn't want to be saved. Not if it meant his death as well.

He deserved redemption, not a meaningless death that she had the power to prevent. Perhaps that made her a martyr, but she didn't care. She was in love with Antonin Dolohov and if that meant dying so that he didn't, then she would gladly do it a hundred times over.

"I see they caught you as well, Miss Granger," came a foreign voice that interrupted her thoughts. Pulling her head up, she turned to the left as a figure slid down barely a foot from her side. For a moment the question of who they were stuck on the tip of her tongue but it disappeared the second she caught sight of the long, luminous blonde hair.

"Mr. Malfoy?" She whispered in disbelief. His face turned towards her slightly and she could see the look of defeat that was written across it. Was he truly a prisoner in his own home?

"Yes, I'm afraid that I am a designated captive as well," his clipped tones informed her. She still couldn't believe it. Surely it had to be a trick of some sort. But… His robes were wrinkled and dusty, his hair lank and lifeless, his skin shallow, his eyes desolate. If it was fake… It was believable.

"But why…?" She asked softly, watching him carefully, for any deceit. "Isn't this your manor?"

"It was," he conceded. "Until I refused to allow my son to take the Mark."

At this revelation, Hermione gasped. She had been so certain that Draco had taken the Dark Mark. Even Antonin had once thought that he would as well. What had changed besides the elder's Malfoy stance on the matter? And why did it at that?

"Did you know that I was forced to join the Dark Lord, Miss Granger?" Malfoy's voice interrupted again. Hermione's ears perked up at his words; hadn't Antonin been forced by his father as well?

"Your father forced you, didn't he?"

His eye's met hers again as his brows furrowed in confusion, "Who else has told you a similar tale?"

"Professor Dolohov," she answered neutrally, not willing to reveal their close relationship to anyone else just yet.

"Ah yes," Mr. Malfoy said airily. "Vladimir and my own father had many conversations about their support of the Dark Lord. It was no secret at the time. And when the two of us came of age, we were offered as continued support. The next generation, they told us."

"It was your duty to your family," she finished for him and he nodded solemnly in response. A few moments passed between them in silence before she heard his voice rise again.

"You seem awfully well informed, Miss Granger. Did Antonin tell you all of this?" His tone held the surprise and a hint of disbelief.

"He did. I respect and admire him more than any professor I've ever had or any witch or wizard I've ever met. We had an… intellectual bond of sorts. He shared stories with me sometimes," she replied, keeping a vague edge to her words. She wasn't lying but she wasn't giving him the whole truth. But it didn't matter, Mr. Malfoy believed her.

"He is indeed an impressive wizard. Top of his year, could have been Head Boy if the Headmaster hadn't despised Slytherins. Even I thought he would have made an exception for Antonin."

"Why didn't Dumbledore make an exception? He seemed to like Professor Dolohov later on," she explained, wondering why she was even having this conversation with Lucius Malfoy. Apparently he was having the same idea because of the curious look he was giving her.

But he still answered her question. "I assume after he defected Dumbledore saw his usefulness and was willing to exploit it."

"You make him seem like a pawn on a chess board," she muttered unhappily, turning away from the aristocrat. She respected Antonin too much to think of him being used in such a way.

"Isn't that all we are, Miss Granger? Pawns on a chess board that your Headmaster and the Dark Lord have been playing?"

"Chess requires sacrifices," she countered. "And so far the only person who has died has _been_ the Headmaster."

Malfoy tsked lightly, "You forget the Potters. They were sacrificed for the 'greater good.'"

"What are you talking about?" She demanded, turning fully towards the slumped over man next to her. "Dumbledore tried his hardest to save them after Professor Dolohov told him about Pettigrew's betrayal."

"Did he truly try his hardest?" The man cryptically questioned, causing Hermione's mouth to snap shut in defense. She didn't know the answer to that question. Only the Headmaster truly knew and he was gone…

"The Light is not always as bright as it seems," he murmured softly into the silence that was their shared cell.

"And the Dark isn't as dark as we'd like to believe," she replied, leaning her head against the stone wall.

"Do you believe in redemption, Miss Granger?" The man next to her asked after several pregnant pauses.

"I do," she told him, believing it with her entire being.

He was silent after that and the two continued to sit in shared despondency, listening to the sound of Ron occasionally yelling and Harry attempting to calm him down.

It wasn't until much later when the man next to her spoke again, "You care deeply about your professor?"

He wasn't talking about just any professor. She could tell by the finality in his voice. He could see that she had feelings for Antonin. But what surprised her more was the fact that she didn't lie to him or attempt to deny it.

"I do," she repeated the same phrase from before, with just as much honesty poured into the two words. Because it was the truth and she never wanted to lie about it. Not to him, to herself, or to anyone else.

She wasn't ashamed of loving him.

"And does he carry the same affection?"

Hermione paused. She figured he cared for her and possibly even liked her. But did he love her? She had always been too scared to ask and too insecure to believe it. But a part of her hoped that he did.

"He cares for me," was what she settled with. It wasn't a lie; he had told her plenty of times that he cared for her. He had called her Russian endearments and cherished the time they spent together and smiled more at her than she had ever seen him do with anyone else.

"I see…"

From the way that he said the simply statement, she expected a follow up question or even a comment at the very least, but the scrunched up face of Pettigrew appeared in front of their cell door before he could say what he had prepared.

"Malfoy, grab Granger. You're too escort her to the dining room. Mistress Lestrange's orders," the man huffed out, trying to desperately seem important.

But from the derisive snort the blonde wizard next to her gave, he wasn't the least bit impressed. "She orders you to call her Mistress now, does she? How droll of her."

The rat-like man sputtered indignantly before squeaking out, "Just get a move on."

Malfoy raised himself up gracefully before extending a hand to help her up. "We wouldn't want to keep dear Bella waiting, my dear. She gets awfully testy," he told her when he spotted her confused expression.

He was probably right. The woman was positively psychotic.

So she let the wizard escort her out of the cell and the dungeons by her arm. But his grip wasn't as tight as the Snatchers or even Pettigrew's had been. She wouldn't have been able to just shake him off and escape, but he also wasn't cutting off blood circulation.

They traversed back up the vomit inducing winding staircase, and into the initial foyer. She was steered to the left and through a set of double doors that led to an empty room with a grand chandelier hanging above them. She watched it sway lightly before looking down and meeting the cold, gleeful eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Oh goody, you've brought me the Mudblood. I did so want to have some fun with her while we call the Dark Lord," the woman surmised with a small clap of her hands for emphasis. Hermione thought it made her resemble a young child. A creepy child.

But she flicked her wand at Hermione and caught her in a full body bind that kept her firmly in place directly in the center of the room. The raven haired witch circled her like a hungry predator as she spoke to the other two men in the room.

"Lucius… I believe you shall have the honor of calling the Dark Lord. It _is_ your house after all."

"B-But Mistress! You promised me-" Pettigrew attempted to sputter out from behind her.

"And I changed my mind. Go, worm. Watch the other prisoners while I have my fun," she ordered before licking her lips in Hermione's direction. She was instantly reminded of Rabastan Lestrange and wondered if every person with the last name was cursed to be absolutely disgusting and vile.

"Call the Dark Lord Lucius… And accept your reward for good behavior," she told Malfoy as she ran a single pale finger down Hermione's spine.

"As you wish," she heard the man dryly reply before his clipped footsteps disappeared.

"Alone at last, Mudblood. Are you ready to play?"

Hermione couldn't move and she couldn't speak, so she just watched the sadistic expression on the woman's face carefully as she moved in front of her. She reached into her robes and pulled out a small but thick looking dagger. Its metallic surface gleamed while the hilt had the imprint of a snake curling around it.

She watched her stroke the knife almost lovingly as she took a few steps closer to Hermione, peering over her with anticipation. Hermione could feel her throat close up in fear as her stomach clenched. She was waiting for the pain. Physical, mental, emotional, she just knew it would come.

And it did.

She would flick the dagger across her collar bone, nicking her here and there, before making smooth cuts down her stomach and hips. It stung, but it was at least bearable. That was, until she backed away and demanded to hear her scream louder.

Then it was the Cruiciatus.

Hermione had only heard and read about the infamous torture curse but feeling it was completely different. Words paled in comparison to the feel of her skin bubbling and her bones breaking. She could feel knives plunging in and out of her at random and felt as though her eyes would burst out of her skull.

Screaming did nothing but intensify the pain. Moving only hurt more. There was nothing she could do to alleviate the pain. She began to think that she would go crazy, being stuck in this seemingly never-ending cycle of pain.

But eventually Bellatrix stopped. And let her body drop to the floor with a low 'thump.' She hovered over her and Hermione didn't think she would ever, for the rest of her life, forget the maniacal look in the woman's eyes as she began to carve into Hermione's left arm.

"So you never forget," she whispered almost sweetly to her as she finished.

Hermione began to cry as she pictured what horrible thing could have been carved into her flesh. Looking down slightly, she could just make out the crude red line of 'Mud' before she burst into short, breathy sobs. She was branded, like Holocaust survivors she had learned about in Muggle school. So she never forgot that all she was to them was filth.

"Ooooh?" She heard Bellatrix's voice change as she regarded something new. Something she was clearly intrigued by.

"Stopping by for a friendly visit, Antonin? I was wondering when you would."

 _Antonin._

Her heart pounded as she prayed that he didn't do anything rash. If Malfoy had gone to call the Dark Lord, then he would be at risk if he tried to retaliate. She stayed completely still and waited to see what he would say. Or more importantly, what he would do.

She could hear his footfalls as they got closer and closer to the center of the room. But they completely bypassed Hermione's horizontal figure as she heard his voice for the first time.

"Indeed… I was accepting your invitation, but… I see that you are already busy. I can come back later?"

He sounded off. Almost like he was attempting to stay neutral but was failing miserably at it. At least to Hermione's ears. But then again, she had spent several years practically dissecting the man, his moods, and his mannerisms.

"Nonsense! Perhaps you'd like to play too?" Bellatrix asked in an almost husky voice. At the mention of them playing together, Hermione turned her head slightly to see her wizard standing directly in front of the crazy witch.

"And spoil all your fun? What kind of wizard do you think I am, Bella?" He replied lowly, keeping his eyes solely on hers. She was twirling a piece of her hair around on her bloodied fingers as she smiled up at him. Hermione thought she would be sick just from the sight alone. If they weren't well into their forties, dressed in all black attire, with sadist looks in their eyes, she would have thought they were flirting schoolchildren.

"A powerful wizard. Not as power as our Lord… But close," she murmured, just audible enough for Hermione to catch though.

"Quite a compliment coming from your lips," he replied, equally as audible but quiet. They seemed to move closer together and she hoped he wasn't actually under an Imperius Curse and had full control of himself. She also hoped he knew what he was bloody doing.

"What would you do to the Mudblood? If you were me?" Bellatrix asked in what Hermione guessed was her 'sexy voice.' She just sounded huskier if anything.

"I would break her," Antonin whispered down to the witch. "I would show her true pain and humiliation. Give her a glimmer of hope, and then dash that away as well."

"Playing with your food?" She asked excitedly.

"Isn't that what you're doing, dear Bella?"

"Mmm, perhaps."

"Lucius," the dark haired wizard said abruptly. She heard the man's footsteps from already in the room. She hadn't known that he had been there until now. Had he also witnessed this odd and disturbing scene?

She wondered what he thought about that versus the conversation they had had earlier.

"Pick the girl up. I want her to watch before Bella and I ruin her," she heard him say unkindly. She had already turned to watch the approaching pureblood and allowed him to grasp her under her arms and haul her to her feet. She hadn't even known the man possessed the strength to do so, but he did it easily enough.

 _Please let him have a plan_ , she thought desperately, watching the two in front of her with visible unease.

"Do you see? How she cowers in fear of us? From our shared power?" Antonin murmured into the witch's ear as he turned her around to stand in between him and Hermione. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned closer to her.

Bellatrix had a euphoric expression as she watched Hermione squirm slightly in Malfoy's grip. She didn't do anything as Antonin's hand slid down to grasp her hand that still had a dagger swaying in it.

"Make sure she doesn't turn away, Lucius," he advised as he took the knife into his own hand. But before Hermione could process what was happening, she was twirled around as strong arms surrounded her and she was face first into a chest that smelled slightly of dust and spice.

Behind her, screams could be heard, as well as what was probably blood hitting the floor. She could hear Antonin growling and cursing in fluent Russian in between gasps of screams. The sound of harsh thumping continued and Hermione pressed herself tighter into the grounding embrace, feeling the man flinch with each thump.

"Fuck…" She heard after a tense silence following the cease fire of screams.

The grip around her loosened slightly as she heard the same low voice issue a few cleaning spells and a quick _Incendio_. The smell of burning flesh caught in her nostrils as she was ripped from one embrace and pulled swiftly into another.

 _Scandalwood_ , her mind registered before she burst out into tears.

She could hear him trying to soothe her from above her but she just clung tightly to him, needing the reassurance that he was truly there, that he had once again protected her.

When her tears had subsided into the occasional sniffle, she lifted her head to meet his worried stare, the kind that she always wanted to kiss away because it made the lines around his face more pronounced. She ran her hand affectionately across the scruff of his jaw and saw him visibly relax before her eyes.

"I missed you," she said quietly before curling herself in his embrace once again, relishing in the heat that poured into her cold and shaking bones. Her arm still hurt and her body was still fatigued, but she had never felt more safe in her entire life than she did in his arms.

"I missed you as well," she heard him whisper as he stroked the back of her hair and tuck her further under his chin.

"Should I fetch the others?" She heard Malfoy ask awkwardly after a few moments passed by.

"Yes, yes, of course. Thank you again Lucius," she heard Antonin say quickly.

"For what?" Hermione mumbled, wondering if it was just because he was shielded her from watching the dark side of her wizard.

"When he left to call the Dark Lord, he contacted me instead," Antonin explained to her. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise and she lifted herself slightly in Antonin's lap to look over his shoulder and the man still staring at the two of them in the doorway.

He gave her a brief smile before turning to head back into the manor. Slumping back into her wizard's arms, she kept him close as she mused on the absolute irony involved with the situation.

Well… She _had_ told him that they cared for one another.


	18. Year H - Part Three

**_Year H – Part Three – Castle Combe_**

She didn't remember much after Antonin killed Bellatrix.

Her body and mind had fallen unconscious due to the trauma her body was forced to endure and she had collapsed in her wizard's arms, his voice calling her name the last thing she heard before her world became complete and utter darkness.

She didn't know how long she had been in a dreamless state but eventually she was awoken by the smell of spice and the crackling of feint magic being used around her. Tentatively opening her eyes, she looked into overly familiar and worried brown eyes framed by curling blonde hair.

"Hermione?" She heard Masha's voice ask gently. She tried to open her mouth to reply but no sound came out. Her heart pounded as she wondered what was wrong but the matronly witch shushed her lightly as she ran a damp washcloth over the younger girl's forehead.

"Shh, now. You're alright. Your body is just attempting to heal itself. You went through quite the ordeal," she informed her. Hermione nodded weakly as she settled herself into the sheets that smelled faintly of sandalwood. She was in Antonin's bed…

But where was he?

Almost as though reading her mind, which could have honestly been a possibility due to Hermione's lack of speech, Masha replied, "My son has taken young Mr. Potter aside and has been speaking to him. I should go and let him know you've awoken. He was quite distraught when he brought you back here."

He was talking to Harry again? Why? And about what? Hermione just had more questions than answers as the Russian witch rose from the wooden chair that had been placed next to the bed and walked out of the opened door.

She returned several seconds later being followed closely by the towering figure of Hermione's wizard. She wanted to sob all over again at the sight of him but found her tear ducts to be completely empty. He stared nervously at her as he sat down slowly on the bed next to her, creating a dip with his weight that had her sliding towards him.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face into his chest as she felt his arms instinctually go around her. She heard the 'clink' of a door closing and looked up to see Masha gone and the two of them alone. Thanking the woman a thousand times over in her mind, she continued to enjoy the feel of Antonin's embrace as she listened to him speak softly to her in fluent Russian. She had no idea what he was saying but the sound was lulling her into a calmer state of mind.

"You had me worried for a while, _moy svet_ ," his voice said several seconds later, returning to English. Partially.

"I'm sorry," she half mumbled, half rasped into his shirt. Her voice was slowly coming back but it was uncertain from the lack of use. And her throat was severely dry, she noticed.

But attentive as ever, Antonin noticed and conjured her a glass of water that she quickly began to down as he watched her intently. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she gave the glass back to him and it disappeared with a single word.

"What happened after I passed out?"

The man ran a hand through his hair distractedly, "Lucius killed Pettigrew. Weasley, Potter, Ollivander, and the goblin Griphook were rescued from their cells."

"A goblin was being held prisoner there?" She asked in disbelief.

"Apparently. But it's a blessing in disguise," he said softly as he began to stroke her arm soothingly. Hermione leaned into his touch and placed her own hand on his thigh to help keep her grounded.

"For the plan of getting into Gringotts," she said, not even questioning it. She remembered what he had said weeks ago. If they wanted to get into the wizarding bank, they needed a goblin's help. And they had indeed found one.

"He's also willing. Being held captive and being tortured for sport has driven him to our side. I took Bellatrix's wand and I have the key to the Lestrange vault," he informed her. She sat up a bit straighter at his words and looked him in the eye.

"Why do you have the key to the Lestrange vault?"

Antonin looked away for a moment before exhaling harshly, "Rodolphus Lestrange."

Bellatrix's husband? "What about him?" She questioned slowly, watching the wizard's varying emotions. He seemed almost… sad.

"I was friends with the man when we were younger. Both of the brothers, really, but Dolph and I had been closer in age and were typically likeminded," he began to explain. "He was a good man, Hermione. Nothing like his psychotic _bitch_ of a wife," he spat out the words with malice in his eyes.

"He died in Azkaban. For a crime he had only witnessed. But he had the mark on his arm and that instantly made him exactly like the rest of us; evil, dark, irredeemable. Before the night he was arrested, he entrusted me with the location to the key. Sometimes I think that he knew what would happen to him inside of the prison. He was never like the rest of us. He couldn't take to the dark arts. It was just never in him, but in the end, he died for it."

"That's awful," Hermione admonished, resting her head against his shoulder as he clutched her to him tighter. "I wish I had gotten to meet him. Especially if you speak so highly of him."

Antonin chuckled slightly, "I'm sure he would have loved you. Outspoken women were always his weakness. He swore up and down that my mother owned his heart."

Hermione smiled lightly and teasingly said, "I'm sure he's also not the first man to ever say that."

She received a playful swat of her bum in response as she curled up even closer to him, both of her thighs resting against one of his. A few moments of silence echoed around them as another question laid heavy on Hermione's mind. She wanted to ask about Harry, or more specifically, what he always took her friend away to talk about.

She didn't want them to have secrets between one another, but she also didn't want to pry. Surely there were some things that he would tell her in time. But for some reason, this was one that she wanted to know now.

"Antonin?" She murmured quietly, wondering if he had even heard her in the first place. But of course he had.

"Hmm?"

She only hesitated slightly, rethinking her words before asking, "What do you always take Harry aside to talk about?"

She felt him shift slightly, but eventually she heard him speak, "Sometimes we really do just talk. But for the past few months, I've been teaching him Occlumency."

That surprised her. She felt her eyes widen as she leaned away from the man to look at him fully. He seemed sincere and she didn't doubt that he was telling her the truth, but it still confused her. "I thought after Professor Snape stopped…" Her voice trailed off but Antonin knew what she was talking about.

"The Headmaster asked me after that. And I agreed. We've been taking it slowly and he's taken to it as well as he can. But there have been… complications," he muttered the last word as his brows furrowed like they always did when he was in deep thought.

Letting herself fall back onto the bed, she took a friendlier and companionable position with her wizard before asking, "What do you mean?"

"Mr. Potter's mind is fully able to perform the necessary skills that Occlumency requires, but there is something blocking him from being able to shut out the Dark Lord," Antonin explained to her. She didn't understand… If what she was hearing was correct, then that meant that Harry could do Occlumency well, just not when it came to the reason he was learning it in the first place.

"Is there any reason that he can't?" She questioned hastily, hoping to any entity that was listening that it wasn't the same conclusion that had been floating around in her own thoughts.

"It is just a theory," Antonin told her in a very serious and low voice, staring her straight in the eye. "But given the facts we have from that Halloween night sixteen years ago and the recent turn of events… I have the sinking suspicion that Mr. Potter possesses a piece of the Dark Lord's soul inside of him."

"Making him a Horcrux," Hermione finished, a growing set of dread settling in gut. And as Antonin nodded, she closed her eyes and prayed for her best friend. How were they ever going to end this war if Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, also needed to die for it to happen?

* * *

Antonin stared solemnly out of the window as he rethought the plan for what seemed like the hundredth time that hour.

The Trio had figured out that the final missing Horcrux was the diadem of Ravenclaw's founder.

Once they had figured out where this lost diadem was and thoroughly interrogated their resident Ravenclaw, Kingsley Shacklebolt, they learned that the diadem was most likely still hidden in Hogwarts somewhere.

So that was where he was going to start. He had planned to go to Hogwarts alone and search until he found it. He might have even taken Tonks, Hufflepuffs were notorious for being exceptionally good finders. But then his annoyingly pushy Gryffindor had decided that she was going instead.

"Hermione, you've been through a lot these past few days. Why don't you just stay here and-"

"No! I refuse to sit idly by while the rest of you put your lives on the line for this mission. I agreed to help Harry find the Horcruxes and damn it, that's what I'm going to do!"

And that had been the end of it. She hadn't been able to see reason and he had not wanted to argue with her about it. He knew he would lose regardless. So he conceded and the two of them planned how they would get into Hogwarts and where they would look first.

At the same time, Potter, Weasley, and the goblin Griphook would be heading to Diagon Alley. He had given them the key to the vault and Bellatrix's wand. They would sneak into Gringotts, find and retrieve the cup, and meet them back in Castle Combe.

It all seemed simple enough, but he didn't live for as long as he had by not being cautious. He made sure to secure an oath out of the goblin and even went as far as placing a spell of secrecy on the creature when he hadn't been looking. He wasn't about to let two children walk into a situation without having all of their bases covered.

As for himself and Hermione… He had absolutely no idea where the diadem of Ravenclaw would be in the vast castle. He figured it would probably be somewhere associated with the house itself; the library, the common room, the astronomy tower, perhaps even in one of the dorm rooms. But all he got out of his little witch was the reminder to be patience and to "trust her on this."

Apparently she had a plan. But one that she had yet to share with him. Which usually meant it was foolhardy and reckless. Or close to it. She was still a transparent Gryffindor after all.

While she said goodbye to her friends, he stood by the door, staring out into the night and thinking about how glad he would be once this whole mess was over. He would finally be free, truly free in this world. But would he be free enough to be with Hermione?

The thought weighed heavy on his heart. Sure, his mother was supportive and Black never failed to remind him that he now supported them every time he saw the pair together, but that didn't mean anyone else would be. That didn't mean he wouldn't be making her an outcast just for being with him.

He didn't want to ruin her life. She had so much of it left and while he did too, especially if this plan was successful and he no longer had to worry about his sociopathic master, but…

The feel of a hand curling into his own gained his immediate attention. He looked down at the curly head of hair and bright eyes that entranced him all those years ago. A nervous smile played on her lips as he gave her smaller hand a brief squeeze of encouragement. The two walked out of his home and he prepared them to Apparate straight to the forest outside of Hogwarts.

Once the feeling of the world spinning ceased, he cast a quick Disillusionment Charm on her tiny figure and made sure that she had a tight grip on the corner of his robes as he began his trek up to the castle. He was arriving unannounced and could only hope that the current Headmaster was too busy to worry about him being there.

He hadn't run into the wizard the first time but he knew his good fortune wouldn't last him forever. Instinct told him that this time, there would most likely be complications.

Keeping a steady, but moderate pace, he made sure to occasionally check that Hermione was still with him as he approached the gates. The doors parted open for him immediately, recognizing his previous status as professor and Hermione's as a student. The wards hadn't changed after he left. Apparently the castle didn't realize that he was no longer a professor. Or it didn't care.

His boots clicked familiarly across the stone floors as he entered the corridor. He had placed a muffling charm on Hermione but could still feel her fist attached to the back of his robe. Moving through the silent and empty hallways, he headed in the direction of Ravenclaw Tower, figuring he would start there.

But the hand that had ahold of his robes began tugging incessantly, trying to lead him closer to the direction one would go in search of the Gryffindor Tower. He wanted to argue but they were trying to keep a low profile. So he relented and the two of them began heading up towards her previous living location.

She stopped suddenly, pulling him with her as a few of the ghosts began to float by. He wasn't worried about them, knowing that none of them would get involved in his affairs. Antonin attempted to walk past them, but Hermione's tugging never let up. He stopped and watched the ghosts with a careful eye, taking in the Fat Friar, Sir Nicolas, and finally… The Grey Lady.

Then it hit him, Hermione's plan. She was the ghost of Ravenclaw, she could potentially know where the diadem was. Walking closer to her, she took notice of him and drifted down an adjacent hallway, potentially to get away from him. But he sped up a bit, keeping Hermione close behind him as he hissed out, "Please, I need to ask you about the diadem."

That got her attention and she paused, floating in place before whipping around to look at him. Her stare was vacant and haughty but he ignored it as he stepped closer to her. "You know about the diadem, don't you?"

"It was my mother's," she said in an eerily chilling voice. But Antonin ignored the chills it gave him as he pressed on.

"Rowena Ravenclaw," he answered for her. "What happened to it?"

"Why would I tell you? You, who are just another Slytherin boy ready to deceive and destroy," her whispery voice began to sound angry, and Antonin recognized that she had been talking about his master. He had approached her first, all those years ago, wanting to make a Horcrux out of her mother's diadem.

"Because I want to destroy the darkness that lurks inside of it," he told her calmly, apparently taking her by surprise. Or, well, as surprised as ghosts could be, he supposed.

"You wish to destroy it?" She repeated, uncertainty lacing her voice.

"I do. I've been helping young Harry Potter find these dark objects made by Tom Riddle. It is the only way to end this war and to destroy the Dark Lord for good."

The woman seemed to take this into account as she pondered over his words. Finally, she responded, "I will take you to the room where he has hidden it. But you must want more than anything else to find it."

"The Room of Requirement," he heard the familiar voice behind him whisper. He didn't know what that was, but he accepted her words nonetheless, following the floating figure ahead of him as they trailed through the castle.

They came to a section of the fifth floor that looked completely barren. A few broom closets and tapestries, but nothing of importance. But then he remembered the ghost's words, and thought very hard about the diadem, how Potter had described it to him, how detrimental it was that they find it.

But nothing happened.

He was prepared to give up until he felt his robes twitch slightly from the hand attached to them. He thought about Hermione. About a world where he could potentially be with her. About her being safe and happy and surrounded by people she loved and cared about. He needed that bloody fucking diadem to do it.

And suddenly a door appeared next to him. It wasn't anything special, besides the fact that it hadn't been there a minute ago. Moving closer to it, he twisted the handle and opened it, stepping inside as the Grey Lady began to float away, but not before she left him with,

"You know… In another life, you could have been a Ravenclaw. Your willingness to learn and receive knowledge almost rivals my own."

He figured that was quite the compliment coming from her and thanked her politely before closing the door behind him and Hermione. He removed the invisibility charm he had placed on her as soon as they were secure.

"You already knew about this room." It wasn't a question.

"Of course I did. Where did you think the DA had all its secret meetings? Hogsmeade?" He didn't tell her that that was exactly where he thought they had been having them, and instead looked around the cluttered room in front of him. There were stacks upon stacks of objects, each one closer to the ceiling than the last.

"It'll take us forever to find it," she muttered depressingly. He glanced down at her and pulled her close in a one armed hug.

"I thought that's why you came with me, to help me find it," he teased lightly, attempting to cheer her up. It appeared to work as she elbowed him in the gut before moving in the direction of the piles.

"I'll start on the left here; you take the right?" He agreed and the two of them set to work on trying to find the lost diadem.

Of course, a simple Accio didn't produce any results. He had to begin searching by hand. There were many interesting objects lying about and if he didn't have a specific goal in mind, he would have taken the proper time to identify and inspect them all, but he didn't have the luxury.

Hours passed by, with him occasionally calling across the room to see if Hermione was having any luck. And so far, nothing. But he wasn't discouraged yet. He would tear this entire room apart before he gave up on trying to find it.

Eventually, he heard the sound of Hermione's grunting and struggling and called out to her, "Are you alright?"

"I've almost got it!" Came her instant reply. He stopped what he was doing and rushed in the direction of her voice.

"Are you sure?" He called out, trying to get her to speak again so that he could figure out where she was.

"Pretty sure, yeah. It looks exactly like how Harry described it. It's even in a fancy box," she responded, seemingly close by him. He looked around but didn't see any trace of her.

He heard her give a final strangled sound before the ecstatic, "Got it!" His chest pounded with relief until he heard a following, "Oh no." And then the sound of objects falling and screaming.

Antonin panicked, where was she? How high up had she been? What was going to-

But all thoughts ceased the moment something fell into his shoulders and pushed him straight to the ground. Luckily he had reacted quickly enough and his arms and hands took most of the impact instead of his face. A pressure settled on top of him as both he and the figure groaned.

"Are you alright?" He heard Hermione's out-of-breath voice ask him.

"Marginally," he responded with a cough, feeling her slide off of his back and clamber to her feet. She attempted to help him get back up as well, and he finally looked down to see the ornate tiara-looking object in her hand.

"That's it?" He asked.

"That's it." She replied with a smile. The two exchanged disbelieving looks before he took her hand, leading her back to the door of the hidden room.

"Let's get out of here then. I don't want to linger for longer than necessary. We've lucked out in this search anyways," he told her, completely serious about the luck part. He had half expected broken bones or run-ins with Death Eaters. But, the journey wasn't over yet. The two of them still had to exit the castle in one piece.

Recasting the Disillusion charm, he secured Hermione before opening the door and stepping back into the empty hallway. He began the long trek to exit the castle, moving through the floors seemingly with ease. Until he reached the second floor, that is.

A figure stepped out into his path and he was met with the sight of black hair, hooked nose, and generally sour disposition. The new Headmaster Snape.

"Good Evening Dolohov…" His silky voice said knowingly, like he had known exactly what had been transpiring this entire time. "I didn't expect to see you here ever again. But nostalgic as this is, I must ask… What are you doing here?"

 _Fuck._


	19. Year H - Part Four

**_Year H – Part Four_**

"What I do is none of your business," Hermione heard the threat that was in Antonin's voice. He wasn't going to be moved by the arrival of her old Potion's professor.

"I disagree. Especially inside of _my_ school," she watched a slow grin spread over the other wizard's face. He was actually enjoying his newfound ownership of the castle. Hermione thought she was going to be sick. So it was true; Professor Snape was actually a traitor?

"I was just leaving," Antonin countered, growing visibly frustrated with the situation they were in. And Professor Snape picked up on that fact like a bird of prey stalking its next meal.

"In a hurry to run back to the Order, Dolohov?" Had her heart stopped? It certainly felt like it had. She couldn't breath as she looked from one wizard to the other. How did he know? What gave it away?

What could they do now?

"Has your mind completely escaped you, _Headmaster_ ," Antonin bit out, feigning ignorance though Hermione could feel his magical energy swirling around the two of them. He was prepared for a fight if it came to it. And she suspected that it just might. "I was never a part of the Order. Nor was I ever as close as _you_ had been."

She heard the other man scoff before turning abruptly, startling both her and her wizard, "Do try to keep up, Dolohov. We have much to discuss."

As first, she thought Antonin would tell him to sod off and then rush out with her in tow, but something gave him pause and before she could decipher what he was about to do, he was following behind Professor Snape.

They were heading to the Headmaster's Tower, and after Snape muttered the password and the eagle shifted to give them access, they entered the man's new office. He hadn't made many changes, she noticed. Even though she had only found herself in this office a few times before, it still looked undisturbed from when Professor Dumbledore had occupied it.

Speaking of Dumbledore…

Looking up, Hermione saw him among the portraits of former Headmaster's. His knowing blue eyes and kind, grandfatherly smile brought a peace to Hermione's demeanor that she hadn't noticed she needed.

"Hello Antonin," the wizened man's soft voice said. The wizard in question looked almost surprised to see his former employer/savior as he stopped suddenly. Luckily Hermione had been paying attention and managed to stop as well before she either pushed him or fell.

He hadn't taken the charm off of her which meant that he still didn't trust Snape just yet.

"I didn't expect to see you here, Albus," she heard her wizard say in measured tones. He was still trying to figure out what was going on, she just knew it from the sound of his voice. Keeping behind him, she watched from around his arm and kept a firm grip on her wand just in case.

Professor Snape stood near the desk with his arms crossed, his gaze fully on Antonin as he seemed to be analyzing him with the watchful look she remembered from his classes. She didn't think he could see her, but she kept herself from looking him directly in the eye anyways.

"What am I doing here?" Antonin demanded, tired of listening to the uncomfortable silence of the room when his original statement warranted no reply. The portrait of Dumbledore rubbed his beard carefully before speaking.

"Severus and I have much to discuss with you," he started, surprising Hermione with his inclusion of the quiet man in the corner. "He is still a part of the Order."

"Ha," Antonin breathed out, looking unimpressed as he stood to his full height and inclined his head towards Professor Snape. "He murders you but still gets a spot at the table? Just what are you pulling here, old man."

Professor Dumbledore then launched into a very long and convoluted plan that involved Professor Snape putting him out of his misery and securing his position with Voldemort. The only downside was the lack of communication he had been able to have with the Order.

"But you've done an adequate enough job for me, Dolohov. I could sit back and relax for once," he said with a smirk as she felt Antonin tense beneath her fingers.

She could tell that he was scowling without even looking, "And what makes you think I'm a spy, Snape? What's keeping me from telling the Dark Lord all of this?"

Looking past her wizard, she watched Professor Snape's reaction. A strange smile crossed his features before he uttered the two words that had Hermione close to a fainting spell.

"Ms. Granger."

The room went deathly silent and Hermione was afraid that Antonin was about to pass out as well. She pinched him slightly and attempted to gain his attention. Professor Snape hadn't been talking about her in the sense that he knew she was there in the room with them. He had just been mentioning her in general.

"What did you just say?" Antonin asked quietly. Hermione worried that he was about to hex the man in front of them and struggled to stay calm for the both of them. One would need to keep a level head if this situation escalated.

"You know exactly what I said. And you know precisely why I chose to say it."

Antonin's voice raised as he said, "You're a sick bastard if you think-"

"And you're an idiot if you thought no one noticed. Please, Dolohov. Spare me your dramatics. I've known for years about you and Ms. Granger's… sentiments."

"It's true, Antonin. Severus was the one who initially approached me once he learned of what had transpired," the Headmaster said suddenly, before Antonin could creep his hand down to his wand and likely attack the other man.

"I don't understand…" She heard Antonin say quietly, a part of him deflating slightly at the older man's words.

"When you barged into my private labs and demanded that I make the cure for Basilisk petrification using Mandrake roots or else I would, what was the exact phrase you used? Lose control of all my bodily organs as they slowly inverted?" Snape spoke darkly in obvious remembrance of the situation. But Hermione was trying too hard not to laugh. Antonin had told her that his feelings had truly come to fruition during her second year.

Turns out he hadn't been joking. Not in the slightest.

And the man sounded almost sheepish as he replied, "Yes… Well. I suppose I could have gone about that situation with more tact."

"You think?" Snape said dryly.

"Now, now, gentleman. We've established that we're all on the same side. Now is the time to discuss ending this war," Dumbledore interjected, attempting to regain control of the discussion and put it back on track.

"You mean destroying the remaining Horcruxes," Antonin said and Hermione could almost see the roll of his eyes. If he didn't, then she knew he surely wanted to. His tone was just exasperated.

But he had properly taken the Headmasters by surprise.

"Oh yes, I know all about them. I've helped the Trio find three of them already," he said with something prideful slipping into his voice. He was still a Slytherin after all, she supposed.

"And speaking of them," Antonin said with a growing malice to his voice, "Who was planning on telling Mr. Potter that he too possessed a portion of the Dark Lord's soul?"

If she had thought the earlier silence had been deafening, then this one was incapacitating. She could probably cut the tension with a physical knife.

"How did you know?" Dumbledore asked, looking exhausted as he did. Hermione might have felt bad about it until she realized that he had to have known about it as well. Which meant he had some explaining to do.

"I was teaching the boy Occlumency. You didn't think I wouldn't have eventually put two and two together?" Antonin said in disbelief. He was far from a stupid man; she knew that better than anyone.

"I just hadn't expected you to realize it was Horcruxes," the portrait explained carefully, clearly not wanting to appear anymore insulting than he had already been.

Hermione heard Professor Snape scoff from the corner of the room, "You didn't expect a man skilled in the Dark Art's to know about the most dangerous kind?"

The two former colleagues shared looks of something that Hermione didn't even want to begin to understand. Even though Professor Snape was on their side, she wasn't prepared for the immediate comradery that the two Slytherins were beginning to exhibit.

It was a tad bit disconcerting.

"So it appears you still have some explaining to do, Albus," Antonin said cryptically. Hermione couldn't really tell if he was mad or annoyed or… what. He just wasn't happy, that was for sure.

The man in the portrait sighed greatly, "So it seems. Then we shall start from the beginning."

Hermione casually looped her arm through Antonin's, grasping his hand gently as she leaned against him. She felt the subtle squeeze he issued and knew that her support was much appreciative. Looking up at her former Headmaster, she listened carefully as he told them a story that had once been a noble tragedy and twisted it into nothing but lies and deceit.

"I should start by telling you that the night you came to me, telling me of Peter Pettigrew's betrayal and the impending attack on the Potter's, I had already known."

She could feel Antonin's disposition change as he gripped her hand a little bit too tightly. "You already knew?" He asked roughly, anger beginning to seep into his magical energy.

"I did. Severus came to me after he had foolishly told Tom about the prophecy that could possibly end his life. At the time, he hadn't known who the tale foretold but as it turned out, it was either the Potter's or the Longbottom's."

 _That's right_ , Hermione thought in shock. Neville was born the day before Harry. He could have easily been who the prophecy was about.

"When Severus learned this, he returned to the Dark Lord, to plead for Lily Potter's life." Hermione saw Professor Snape shift uncomfortably from his place across from them and suddenly it all made sense. Antonin had always told them that Harry's mum and their Potion's professor had once been friends. It would fit that he would still have cared about her and her safety.

"And Tom made a wizard oath that he would not harm the woman. But Lily only," Dumbledore said gravely.

"Except he didn't. The Dark Lord broke a wizard's oath," Antonin said slowly, most likely deep in thought as he compared this new information to what he already knew.

And suddenly the room felt too cramped for comfort. Her wizard's magical energy was skyrocketing as something seemed to have greatly triggered his ire. Hermione pressed herself closer to him and silently willed him to calm down. Whatever it was, it can't be that bad. Can it?

But of course it could.

"When a wizard's oath is broken, the consequences can be deadly," Antonin started, rage clearly evident in his deep voice. "You knew that the Dark Lord would break his oath that night."

Hermione covered her mouth to prevent the gasp that would have escaped otherwise. He couldn't possibly believe that accusation. Dumbledore had told them all himself that he had tried to stop Pettigrew, it had just been too late. Hadn't it?

"I did," the man admitted softly. And Hermione felt sorrow pore into every fiber of her being. For Harry, for his deceased parents, for those in the Order, for Professor Snape, and especially for Antonin.

"You let the Potter's die so that you could get rid of him," the raging wizard countered in a resentful tone. "You made me believe that I had failed in my attempt to save them so that you could defeat the Dark Lord without lifting a finger."

Hermione could feel him physically shaking in fury and she hugged him even closer, reminding him that she was here. That they still needed to get out of here without incident.

"It was for the-"

"The greater good?" Antonin spat. "You didn't even know that he possessed the Horcruxes. Meaning your entire plan was moot from the start. Lily and James Potter died _needlessly_ and you know it. _Fuck_ your greater good, Albus. And _fuck you_."

Then he was turning, and Hermione had to practically dive out of his way to prevent herself from being seen. He stormed out of the office and just as she was about to go after him, she heard Professor Snape speak quietly.

"He isn't wrong. It did backfire on you in the end. As much as it did for the rest of us." And then the man was a swirl of black robes as he too exited the office, Hermione trailing slightly behind him, pondering his words as they attempted to locate her upset wizard.

* * *

 _What was the point?_

Antonin punched the stone wall outside of the bastard's office harshly as his thoughts grew darker with each passing memory. He had tried to do the right thing. He had searched for his bloody redemption. But what was the point?

He hadn't been able to do shite in the end. He couldn't even save two people from a worthless death. And yet he had felt himself indebted to Dumbledore. Hadn't the man saved him from Azkaban? Hadn't he been the one to tell him that the Potter's death wasn't his fault?

Of course it wasn't his fault. Not when the true murderer had been standing in front of him.

Was he cursed to be the pawn of sociopathic fanatics his entire life? Or would their reign finally be over with the Dark Lord's defeat. Merlin he hoped so.

Collapsing on a bench outside of the tower entrance, he inspected his throbbing fist with disinterest. He needed a better outlet for his rage when the dark magic began too much for him. He was tired of fixing the bones in his hand.

Hanging his head, he rested there a moment longer, enjoying the silence and the brief peace of mind. He knew it wouldn't last long. Not when reality came crashing back and the nightmares of everyone he cared for dying came back to him.

He had taken to drinking Dreamless Sleep lately, more so because Hermione was no longer there than anything. But he didn't want to unload all of this on her. She had enough on her plate without worrying about his deteriorating state of mind.

But being forced to create the darkest spells known to man, watch them being used, and acting like he was enjoying himself was slowly destroying him. He had been out of this world for so long that being suddenly thrust back into it was completely chaotic and disturbed.

Hearing approaching footsteps from the stairwell, he guessed that it had to be Snape. He had put a muffling charm on Hermione, but he had no idea where she was. She could be right next to him on the bench for all he knew. But when he reached his arms out, he was met with empty air.

Looking up as the mass of black appeared from the spiral staircase, he saw the man look down at him with irritation as he approached. "You do realize that self-loathing takes a certain amount of passion that I severely doubt you have much of?"

"Shove off," Antonin muttered, cracking a small grin when he watched his former housemate do the same. Slytherins always had a twisted but loyal sort of friendship. And even though he couldn't say that he trusted the other wizard any farther than he could throw him; he still had a modicum of respect for him.

It was quiet for a moment before Antonin asked the question that had been weighing on his mind, "What of the boy? Mr. Potter."

"He must die if the Dark Lord is to be defeated," the Potion's Master spoke softly as Antonin nodded his head slightly. He had feared as much.

Feeling a pressure against his side, he let his little witch lean into him as her body wracked with what he surmised were silent sobs. She had most likely had the same fear as he.

"Is there no other way?" Antonin asked. More so for the children than any misguided feelings he might have had. He had truly gone soft in that department.

"None that I have been able to find. But I'm certain that if you explain it to the boy then he will accept his fate like the martyr he is."

Antonin sat silently, weighing the subject on his mind. Destroying objects were easy enough, they didn't have any monetary value to the people involved. But to destroy a boy? A boy with friends and family and a life ahead of him.

It'd be much easier if he were nothing more than an object…

"A transfer," he spoke aloud, gaining the Potion Master's attention. When he noticed the confusion pass across his face, he continued, "We transfer the Dark Lord's soul inside of Potter to an object."

Surprise but then contemplation overtook the other wizard's face as Antonin felt Hermione's hands clutching his own desperately, wondering if he was on to something as well.

"It's plausible… You would have to create a powerful transfer spell for that. And even in such a case, the boy could still die."

"Not with Liquid Luck he won't," Antonin pressed, watching the slight smile cross his colleague's face.

"And I suppose you wish for me to make this potion?"

"You're the only one who can Severus."

The man huffed, "Severus is it now? Just when did we get so chummy Antonin?"

"Since you decided to also start referring to me as Antonin," he said with a smirk, chuckling slightly at the absurdity of the situation. Not an hour ago he had been declaring the dark wizard his enemy and now they were acting as the closest of friends.

Purpose can do that, he supposed.

"It will take me at least a month to create the potion," Snape warned, but Antonin understood. It would give him enough time to research and create a proper transfer spell as well.

Before they parted ways, Antonin disclosed the location of his family's home, much to the other wizard's surprise. But Snape grasped his hand in a warm manner and spoke quietly to him before returning to his new office.

"The Potter's death was not your fault. Take care of yourself and that little witch of yours."

Antonin returned to Castle Combe with Hermione moments later, alternating heavy and light feelings weighing on his heart. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on in his head in that moment, but all he knew for sure was that he wanted to get upstairs, wrap his arms around his girl, and sleep for as long as he could.

And from the incessant tugging of his hand, that's all she had on her mind as well.


	20. Year H - Part Five

**_Year H – Part Five_**

Hermione winced as she watched another book carelessly hit the floor. Antonin had been researching nonstop while he was home and she was beginning to believe he was a man obsessed.

He had barely said a complete sentence to her in practically two days and she might have been offended if she didn't already know exactly what he was doing. He was searching for information to assist him on creating a transfer spell that would ultimately try to save her best friend's life.

She couldn't exactly fault him for that.

But she was growing increasingly worried with his workaholic behavior. He spent most of the day with his typical Death Eater duties but the second he was back, his nose was shoved into dozens of books until he'd pass out from exhaustion, only to wake up and repeat the whole process.

She'd only let it go on this long because she knew how important it was. Not only to her and the rest of the Order, but to him. He truly did care for Harry; as a person, as a former student, as her friend. And he was a good person. He wasn't about to just accept that a seventeen-year-old boy had to die needlessly, all because a dead Headmaster had deemed it so.

But if he continued on like this for the rest of the week, she feared that he wouldn't have enough energy to sit up, let alone cast the spell that was supposed to save Harry and remove the piece of Voldemort's soul.

Another book crashed to the floor and she exhaled harshly before standing from her cross-legged position on his bed. She was done with her vigil for the night. It was time for him to take a breather. And she knew exactly how she planned on doing that.

"Antonin," she murmured softly, attempting to get his attention. He glanced up at her with bloodshot eyes that hurt her heart. _He would destroy himself before he ever made her unhappy_ , she thought. Even if his death would destroy her as well.

"What is it?" He asked roughly, his voice quiet from being unused for so long.

"Let's take a break," she suggested calmly, wondering how he was going to react to her proposition. At the face he made, not particularly well.

"I'm close to the breaking point, Hermione. I'll rest after I've found it," he crisply informed her.

She pursed her lips distastefully as she analyzed his haggard appearance. "Yeah, I think you've already found it in yourself," she muttered unhappily before yanking the book out of his hands and placing it gently on the end table next to his armchair.

He reached over to pick it up again before turning a glare towards her as she slapped his hand away. "Hermione," he started in a warning voice. He wasn't in the mood for games. Well, neither was she.

"We're taking a break, Antonin. Now get up," she said bossily, tugging on his hand as she did. He tensed up for a moment before deflating and doing as he was told. She could audibly hear his bones cracking as he stood and knew that it was mostly from being in his sitting position for far too long.

"You're going to eat something and drink plenty of fluids," she informed him as she shoved him out of their room. "And after that, we'll see if you're ready to get back to work."

She heard him mutter something as they walked down the stairs. It suspiciously sounded like something about her needing to spend less time with his mother but she only whacked him on the back of the head before continuing to push him in the direction of the kitchen.

"Sit," she ordered and he did as he was told. She quickly reheated a plate of tonight's dinner that he had skipped and set it in front of him. He began to eat without even being told and Hermione set to fixing him a cup of tea and a glass of water. He hadn't been hydrating much either so she was going to remedy that as well before allowing him to leave her watchful eye.

Putting the two cups down, she sat in front of him and watched as he continued to shovel food into his mouth, all manners having gone out the window. He had to have been starving, she realized. The thought only served to remind her that she was doing the right thing.

It also helped her solidify her decision.

Once he had cleaned his plate and downed the two liquids, he glanced at her sheepishly. "I'm sorry I was so difficult about that…"

She grinned cheekily as she replied, "Well, one of us has to be a functioning adult at least."

"True," he replied with a snort as he waved the dishes away to the sink.

"Am I allowed to get back to work now?" He asked warily, but she only shook her head in response before taking his hand and leading him back upstairs.

Once they reentered the room, she waved her wand and moved all of the books on the floor out of the way and lit a few candles as well. Antonin closed the door behind them and Hermione cast a quick locking and silencing charm as soon as he did. He cocked his eyebrow at her as she placed her wand on one of his dressers, not needing it anymore.

"Are we going to have a talk?" He asked slowly, probably wondering what else was wrong. Normally she only did it herself if she was upset and needed to talk to him about it.

But this time was completely different.

"No, I don't believe we're going to be doing much talking," she promptly told him. The creases in his forehead appeared as he considered her words and the cryptic tone of voice she had taken.

"I don't understand."

Of course he didn't. Because she hadn't come out and said it yet. But really, did she need to? She had been preparing for this moment for months. He should have known that it was bound to happen eventually.

Pulling her sweater up and over her head, she let it fall to the floor in a silent heap before unbuttoning the top button on her jeans. She looked up to see the concentration in Antonin's eyes that was fully focused on the motions her hands were making.

Smiling slightly, she asked him teasingly, "Do I have to do it all by myself?"

That got his attention. His head perked up and their eyes met as he regarded her for a moment. "Hermione?" He asked quietly, the question poised in the mere saying of her name.

"I'm ready, Antonin. I want it to be now," she told him. She was ready to give him all of her and accept him in return. It was time.

"Now?" He asked weakly.

"Is there a problem with that?" She questioned, unzipping her jeans slowly and loving the same that his eyes instantly followed her fingers down.

"I'm just… a bit tired. It may not be as exciting as it can be," he sheepishly told her as he looked back up at her. She shook her head in disbelief as she giggled lightly.

"You'll have plenty of opportunities to make it up to me."

His eyes darkened at her words and he nodded his head in agreement as he stepped closer to her. He held her hand as she toed her pants down and stepped out of them. Standing in front of him in nothing but her undergarments, she didn't feel anything but confidence and lust.

The look in his eye, the slow perusal of the body he had already seen many a times but still regarded it as the first each and every time he did, had her soaking her knickers before he had barely touched her.

The intense dark gaze only served to give her goosebumps and a growing excitement to see him as well.

He pulled his own shirt off before she could barely blink and was pulling her flush against his chest in the next moment. Her heart was threatening to beat out of her chest but listening closely, she could hear his rapid one as well. He was probably as nervous as she was. If not more.

He backed them up to the bed and laid her down on it before crawling over top of her. He completely covered her petite form with his larger one but that didn't stop him from taking care not to squash her as he found her lips with his own.

She felt herself beginning to squirm in anticipation as his tongue explored her mouth and his hand teased her breasts. She whined lightly, hearing and feeling his deep chuckle as he pulled an inch away from her face.

"Impatient, _pchelka_?"

"You're still wearing too many cloths," she told him, loving the rumble of yet another chuckle as he shifted to remedy the problem.

He heard his belt unbuckle and the rustle of material as his trousers were swiftly kicked to the floor. He was back on top of her, naked as the day he was born, and she was mewling in pleasure at the feel of his warmth and the hard prod of his member as it slid across her thigh.

"Please don't tease me anymore…" She begged, not wanting to prolong this tightness inside of her stomach any longer than necessary. She had waited long enough for him to accept her and now he had waited long enough for her to accept him.

She wanted all of him.

"As you wish," he whispered into the shell of her ear as he grabbed his wand from the nightstand. He waved it over her body and she felt her bra and knickers suddenly disappear. But she didn't feel the coolness of the air, instead she was covered with the comforting heat that was only her wizard as he flung his wand back onto the stand.

"Are you certain?" He asked her one last time, longing held visible in his voice. She knew he wanted this more than anything. He had most likely lusted after her for longer than appropriate. But she was ready.

"Yes."

She felt him shift again and felt the hard flesh of his manhood prodding against her lower lips. She slowly spread herself wider and held her breath as she felt him begin to inch his way in. Once he was maybe halfway there, he paused for a moment before whispering a quick apology to her.

He pushed himself the rest of the way in and she gasped aloud at the sudden intrusion. She involuntarily tried to shove at him, but his voice floated into her ears. "Just relax, _lyubimaya_. Breathe and relax. I will not move until you're comfortable."

Slowly, and she meant slowly, she began to feel herself calm down. He was true to his word though; he didn't move an inch as she struggled to relax herself. But it was beginning to feel better. There was a slight ache down there but mostly she just felt… full. It was strange and different but it wasn't totally unpleasant at this point.

"Alright," she told him. "I'm ready."

He took a deep breath in and pulled himself out a bit. She felt herself gasp again but not from pain or uncertainty. No… This time is being from pleasure. As he then pushed himself back in, a light moan slipped out of her lips as he rubbed deliciously against her inner walls.

"Faster," she told him as he continued the slow pace that was pleasurable but infuriatingly not enough. But he jumped at the opportunity to do as she asked and began thrusting at a much quicker pace. She felt herself moaning louder as the tightness inside of her coiled like a spring.

"A-Antonin," she choked out as her hands clung to his back, nails digging in as his pace rocked her entire body.

His groans were the only comprehendible thing she could hear in response as his pace started to become a bit frantic.

"So sweet, so unbelievably bloody amazing, fuck Hermione," his words became to form in her mind as he continued to pound into her. The sound of slapping flesh was one of the sweetest ones she had ever heard.

The feeling that had been long building up inside of her threatened to burst as she cried out, "Oh Merlin, please don't stop. Ah! I'm going to burst!"

Antonin crooned to her in fluent Russian as that tightness inside of her burst free from the dam and filled her entire body with an orgasm that sent spasms from her head to her toes. She cried out as her body shook but still he continued thrusting, grinding in a way that prolonged the euphoric feeling and had real tears spilling from her eyes.

It was the single greatest feeling she had ever experienced.

And as finally began to come down from the high, she felt Antonin tense overtop of her as well. "I'm close, _lyubimaya_. So bloody close."

After a few seconds, he pulled out of her completely and spilled himself over her stomach, groaning her name as he did. He collapsed on top of her and she flailed slightly for a moment as she felt the full force of his weight. But after a moment, she adjusted to it and wrapped herself around him. She felt sated. She felt tired. But more than anything:

She felt loved.

* * *

Antonin stood on the front porch, staring up at the clear night sky. It was good sign at least.

He had just sent his patronus to Severus. Tonight would be the night that they saved Harry Potter and remove the Dark Lord's soul from his body by transferring it into a separate object.

It had taken him the rest of the week to finish, despite his little witch's constant yet pleasurable interruptions and the occasional nagging that he eat something or sleep. At least the energy he was exerting on their passionate and somewhat continuous lovemaking was insuring a good night's rest.

But he had finished. He had practiced on minor objects. Cursing and transferring it to a different object but he had no idea of knowing how it would affect a human. He could only hope that the potion Snape was providing would be more than enough to give Potter a fighting chance.

Hearing the door to the house open, he looked back to see his mother and girl standing in the doorway. "Did you call Professor Snape?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, he should be here shortly."

"Don't you think we should have told Harry beforehand?" She continued, stepping closer to him despite the cool night air and her lack of appropriate attire.

"It'll be easier for Severus to explain. We just have to keep him from dying before he can do that," Antonin answered with a sense of unease. He didn't think the Potter boy would be capable of murder, but with a piece of the Dark Lord inside of him… Well, anything was possible.

"You don't really believe that do you?" She asked quietly, looking up at him with uncertainty shining in those whiskey eyes of hers. His only answer was to wrap an arm around her and look back out into the starry sky.

They stayed silent as they continued to wait. He exchanged a nervous glance back at his mother as she fought the urge to tell Hermione the truth. That her best friend might die tonight. That even if he refused, he had to die for them to win the war. That even if the transfer worked, he still ran the risk of accidental death.

And Antonin didn't even want to begin to think about how negatively the boy would receive the man who murdered his beloved Headmaster.

Just as he finished that thought, the sound of apparition caught his attention. Looking up, he saw the familiar black clad figure of Snape crossing through the garden, staring in surprise at the home in front of him.

"This is your ancestral home?" He asked in disbelief.

"We're Russian, you idiot," Antonin barked. "We don't have a bloody ancestral home."

" _Mal'chik_ , don't be rude to your guests," his mother warned him from somewhere behind him. Snape looked past him and Hermione at the foreign voice and stared in what appeared to be even more shock at the sight of the small blonde woman glaring up at him.

As Snape approached, he quirked an eyebrow in silent question but Hermione managed to answer before he could. "This is Antonin's mother, professor. Masha Dolohov."

"Your mother?" He repeated, apparently testing the phrase on his tongue. A small smile crept onto his face, "Of course."

Ignoring the look of what might have been prior knowledge on the other wizard's face, he continued, "Yes, yes, introductions and all that. Can we get back on track?"

"Certainly," Snape's silkily voice replied as he stepped past Antonin and into the house. But his voice carried back out as he said, "Oh, and Antonin? You're patronus was surprisingly… adorable."

He covered his face with one hand as he ignored his mother and Hermione's questioning looks before following the bloody bastard back into the house. They would get back to that later.

Walking up the stairs, they approached the boy's room. Antonin took a deep breath and kept his wand firmly in his hand before knocking. He kept Snape out of sight as the door opened the boy's familiar green eyes met his.

"Professor? Did you need something?" His hair was sticking up like he had previously been trying to get to get some sleep and Antonin regretted having to do this. But he could be potentially saving his life.

"May I come in? We need to discuss something."

The boy jumped out of the way and allowed him entrance. He walked over to his bed and prepared to sit down on it. In his moment of distraction, Antonin ushered Hermione, his mother, and Severus all into the room before warding the door shut and casting several strong silencing spells.

When Potter turned around, he was faced with four individuals instead of just the one. And one of which he held a stern grudge against. Antonin watched the boy's face turn red in anger as he rushed his former Potion's professor.

Antonin froze him where he was and allowed the boy the freedom to speak. He couldn't be trusted in any other way just yet.

"Why is that murdering coward here?!" Potter shouted, looking from the man in question to the others in the room.

"He has something important to tell you, Harry," Hermione tried telling him calmly, hoping to do the same with her friend. But the boy was in too much of a rage.

"He can shove off with whatever it is! All of you can if you think he can be trusted!" Antonin ignored the flinch that his girl did as her friend snapped at her. She would forgive Potter. He was just upset and hurt in the moment.

"We aren't asking you to trust him, we're asking you to listen," he told the boy. But the stubborn prat just continued to shake his head in silent refusal.

"Harry James Potter!" The familiar voice of reason and terror from his childhood sounded suddenly. The dark haired boy instantly froze even more so than Antonin's curse had as he looked on in surprise at the woman who had just stepped in front of him.

"You _will_ listen to what Professor Snape has to say. Do I make myself clear?" The boy clearly didn't know what to do so he agreed. A wise choice really. Antonin knew what the opposite was. And he only shivered at the memory of it.

But that did the trick. Potter was willing to shut up and listen carefully as Severus explained to him what all had happened before, during, and after that Halloween night sixteen years ago. Antonin could see the shock and understanding that began to cross the boy's face as he took in every detail that was told to him.

"That's… that's why I knew what the Horcruxes were… Because- Because I'm also one," he said breathlessly. "It all makes sense now. Everything."

"There is one problem though," Snape added as he watched with a disturbed expression. Antonin agreed with that, the boy looked far too… pleased to have figured out the truth.

"Yeah… We've got to destroy the Horcruxes… And since I'm one, you've got to kill me." He spoke with such finality that Antonin suspected that Potter had long accepted his fate. And it only served to deepen the disgust he felt with Dumbledore and his negligence.

"We may have found a solution to that problem," Antonin spoke up.

"A solution?"

"A transfer," he explained. "Moving the part of the Dark Lord's soul that's inside of you into an inanimate object and destroying it that way."

"Then let's do tha-" The boy started, but Antonin cut him off.

"There's still the threat of death or injury, Mr. Potter. I can't guarantee your safety if we do this."

"I'm a Horcrux, professor. No offense, but I'm dead either way. If this is the only way you think I could survive this war… Then I'm willing to try it."

Antonin nodded his head and looked to Severus who had pulled a vial out of his robes. "I suspect you already know what that is?" He asked.

Recognizing the golden hue, the boy's face lit up. "The Luck Potion?"

Releasing him from the stasis charm, Antonin then watched as Potter took the offered vial and immediately tipped it back, downing the entirety of the potion in one gulp. And then they waited. Since Potter had already taken the potion once before, he would know when the effects were in place.

A few minutes later, "Alright… I'm really feeling it." He looked up and Antonin could practically see the spring the boy had in his step without him even moving.

"Now… My mother will cast Legilimency on you. Allow her into your mind, Mr. Potter. She will prevent any mental trauma and help to keep you calm and grounded throughout the process. I suspect that having a piece of dark energy removed from your body will not be pleasant."

The boy nodded eagerly and allowed Antonin's mother to enter his mind without issue. Waiting another moment, he exchanged a look with Hermione. She seemed hopeful and that helped to give Antonin the confidence he needed to do this. He was doing this for her. As much as it was for himself, it was ultimately for her as well.

Looking down at Potter, his eyes took in the lightening shaped scar on the boy's forehead and he pointed his wand against it as he said, " _Anima Loqueris_."

Instantly the boy's face contorted as a buildup of darkened magical energy began to pool against his scar. Antonin focused his energy on attracting it, knowing that the darkest portions would belong to the Dark Lord. Severus and Hermione took hold of his arms to keep him upright as Antonin continued to call the dark magic forward.

His hand began to shake as he was faced with power that not even he had ever felt. Only a portion of the Dark Lord's soul possessed this much raw energy? It was no wonder that he had become so fearsome and respected. Even Antonin had never known the true extent of his prior master's reach.

Now he did. And it was utterly terrifying.

But he just continued with the task at hand and when he felt as though he had gotten most, if not all, of the monster's soul in one spot… He spoke again.

" _Anima_ _Remotio_."

Antonin forcibly ripped the portion of the Dark Lord's soul out of that single scar on Harry Potter's forehead. The boy's screams surrounded them as he pulled and pulled, making sure it was completely out. He would have done it faster if he hadn't been afraid of missing any trace of it.

When he finally had felt satisfied enough that he had it all, he redirected it to a hideous chartreuse vase that Antonin's paternal grandmother had gifted to his mother on her wedding day. She had said that the color itself was insulting enough. She had no use of it and was more than willing to let them use it for the transfer.

" _Loco Intrinsecus_."

He placed the tainted piece of soul inside of the vase and watched as the darkened energy swirled around it and eventually settled. Lowering his wand, he let go of the breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding before turning to look back at the unconscious boy hanging in between the Potion's Master and his little witch.

"How is he?" He asked, noting that the boy at least appeared to be breathing.

"I stayed with him through it all. He should wake up in a few hours and be just fine," his mother said lovingly as she patted his arm affectionately. A job well done it appeared to say. And Antonin couldn't help but agree.

The smile on Hermione's face as she looked happily from him and to her friend and back told him as much.


	21. The Final Battle

**_The Final Battle_**

Antonin's chest rose and fell at rapid rates as he struggled to catch his breath. He knew that having a younger witch who had yet to fully enjoy the carnal pleasures of the world would run him ragged but he was certain that this was a bit too much.

Lucky for him, Hermione had just passed out after Salazar knows how many orgasms in a row. Equally in his good fortune was how attracted he was to her. Otherwise he wouldn't have been able to figure out how he had been keeping it up for so long.

But he would never complain. Even when the world was burning and people were being slaughtered all because Antonin Vladimirovich Dolohov had slept with Hermione Jean Granger. He would never regret this.

He would never regret her.

She was his entire world now. The first thing he saw in the morning and the last before he went to sleep. She took care of him even when he'd snapped and snarled at her. She knew his moods better than even he did anymore. She had this magical way of knowing exactly what he needed and when he needed it.

And he was never giving that up. If she was willing to give herself over to him, then he would do the same. It was only fair to her. And she deserved the world. If that just happened to be him, then who was he to deny her?

The only problem in his mind was the opinion of others. He didn't want to isolate her from her friends or family just because of his presence. He had a feeling that she would try to give them up for him but that was the last thing he wanted.

What would he do though? If the people closest to her made her choose between them and him? Would he bow out gracefully or attempt to change their opinions of him?

Part of him wanted to say that he would fight for her. But the other, the stronger part, wanted him to just disappear and let her live her life without having the unneeded baggage of a damaged, old, and dangerous wizard.

The only thing stopping him was the deep sadness he knew he would cause her. Just the thought of her tears was enough to give him pause and keep him around for as long as she wanted him there. He had tried to distance himself from her before and it hadn't worked so he would just wait. Wait and see what happened.

Looking down at her sleeping form, he couldn't help but let the small smile grow across his face as he watched her. Brushing some of her unruly curls from her face, she snuggled closer to him and his heart melted at the pure sight in front of him. How had he come to deserve her again?

Whatever thought was about to come next dissipated when the intense burning on his left arm hit him like lightening. Muttering a curse under his breath, he maneuvered himself out of the bed and dressed in record time. Taking one last long look at his little witch and remembering why he kept doing these soul crushing tasks, he turned and left the room.

He touched his mark the second he was outside and apparated straight to his master's side.

Before, he had been uneasy by the sight of the dark wizard. He had been a typical attractive male, but it was his aura that made him stand out from any others. It was pure darkness. It sent chills down Antonin's back even now and he had yet to even approach him.

But now, he couldn't even see the man behind the monster. Red eyes glittered dangerously across the room from him, set in a skeletal white face. He had none of the thick dark hair he once had. He didn't possess a chiseled jaw or a delicate nose any longer. His master was more of a snake than his pet was.

Antonin never lost his composure though. The Dark Lord liked him because he didn't snivel or whimper. He bowed, as was expected of him, and he completed each task he was given, but he didn't seek favors, he didn't move outside his position. And he retained the illusion of loyalty mixed with brutality. It took its toll on him, but he would do it for as long as necessary.

If it kept him and Hermione alive… He would do it.

"Ah… Antonin. Good, you were prompt. I have a new project for you," his master's cold voice was like being dunked into the Great Lake during December but Antonin only grit his teeth before nodding.

"What do you wish of me, my lord?"

"As I said, I have a project. I wish for you to make me a spell, a curse. One that could strike down multiple opponents at once. One that could allow me to destroy the Order in one fell swoop," his tone grew louder before ending in maniacal laughter that hurt Antonin's ears.

But more importantly, what he asked was impossible. Antonin had been researching spell creation since he was fifteen years old. He thought of himself as a master of the art. And in all his years of collecting knowledge, every single tome warned of creating such a spell as incredibly deadly. Most died in their pursuit of it and many lived the rest of their lives with either missing limbs or permanently stunted magical energy.

It wasn't something to be trifled with.

However, after the Potter boy had recovered, the Trio had destroyed the Horcrux that had been inside of him, as well as the other two. The Dark Lord now only had one remaining piece to his immortality; his familiar, Nagini.

The wizard was growing desperate. It was the only possible explanation for his sudden interest in taking care of his enemies in such a swift manner.

But instead of informing his lord that the curse he described was impossible; he agreed.

"Of course, my lord. I will begin research as soon as possible."

"Gooood. Good, Antonin. This pleases me. As a reward, any of your brothers and sisters will be at your disposal."

 _Perfect_ , Antonin thought with an internal cheer. He could get Lucius out of the house for a bit.

"Tell me again why I'm trusting you?" the aristocrat asked haughtily as Antonin walked him up the stone pathway to his secret home. He hadn't exactly told Malfoy where they were going, not trusting the man's Occlumency shields until he or his mother checked them.

So he had blindfolded him and apparated them to the outskirts of the property.

"Because I got you out of your cell and away from Pettigrew," Antonin told him. Lucius sniffed audibly and it took all of the darker wizard's willpower not to let him run into a tree.

"I still don't see why there's all this secrecy," he complained. Antonin wanted to roll his eyes in exasperation. It was one question after another with this one. At least Severus hadn't bothered him so much. Pity he had his own duties as Headmaster, or he would have asked him.

But Lucius was adept enough at Charms. He wasn't Avery but Antonin wasn't asking him to come to his private, unplotted home where his family and the witch of his dreams lived. That was just bad decision making.

So Malfoy had to do. Even if he couldn't stop complaining.

"We're Slytherins, Lucius. Caution is in our blood, remember?"

"If you say so," Malfoy said with a sigh. Antonin continued pushing him forward until they finally reached his home. Thankfully the man had remained quiet during the rest of the walk. He really had considered letting the man fall at the very least.

Opening the door and ushering him inside, he finally removed the blindfold and allowed Lucius a moment to readjust his eyes to the new light source. When the wizard did, he glanced around in obvious interest.

"What is this place, Antonin?"

"My childhood home," he replied, watching the blond man inspect the various art pieces and knickknacks that were scattered around the initial foyer.

"I remember your father speaking of it once. I assumed it was in Russia though."

"Those curtains with that carpet?" His mother's voice came from the top of the stairs as she began to descend them. "Our neighbors would have cast us out of the town quicker than you could say _'urodlivyy_.'"

Malfoy's eyes rose to take in the figure of his mother and he eyed her with obvious surprise and awe. "Madam Dolohov… It is lovely to see you again."

"And you Lucius. I was sorry to hear about your mother's passing."

The blond wizard sighed deeply, "It was a small mercy by the end. She had been suffering with the dragon pox by that point."

Antonin's mother patted the aristocrat's hand gently as she nodded knowingly, "I felt similar when Vladimir passed. He had been so weak the few days before his last. There wasn't anything I could do."

Both of them seemed to mourn separately as Antonin stood there, uncomfortable. He had long come to terms with his father's death. But his mother had loved him. Or as close as she could get to love. Antonin only longed to learn from his father's mistakes and be a better man. One that his mother would never have to be disappointed of. One that Hermione could rely upon and love equally. One that his future children would never be frightened of.

 _Future children?_ His mind registered briefly. _Where had that come from?_

"While it's good to see you, Lucius, I suspect you and my son have work to do," his mother said with a flashing smile. "You two get to work and I'll make sure your meals are sent to whichever room you two decide to occupy."

"Father's study," Antonin told her quietly and took in the nod that she gave them before leading his guest back to that area of the house.

"Why didn't you tell me your mother was still here?" Lucius asked as soon as they were alone.

Antonin paused for a moment before turning a critical eye to the other wizard, "Did you ever question my loyalties?"

"Well, yes," Malfoy said with an affronted look.

"As did I with you."

"Suppose that makes sense," the aristocrat continued after they were behind the closed doors of the study. "It was the same way with Severus, wasn't it?"

Antonin made a committal sound as he sorted through the different texts and tomes he had moved down to his Father's study in hope of isolated work. He didn't want anyone else in the house knowing about his involvement of Lucius Malfoy. It probably wouldn't be well received anyway. They had yet to even inform the Order of Snape's knowledge and visits to Castle Combe.

With an internal groan, he realized that he would have to get on that sooner rather than later. Otherwise more problems would arise and he would most likely gain a headache from all the screaming.

A few hours later, Antonin was pleasantly surprised by the diligence Lucius took in his work methods. The man was incredibly focused in the task but Antonin suspected that it wasn't just because they were attempting to create a spell that would backfire on the Dark Lord and most likely cripple him.

It would still take them a few more days to create the spell and they would have to be perfect because this wasn't one that they would be able to test. They would have to rely on their knowledge and skill alone. And hope to Merlin that it worked the way they wanted it to.

The spell would cause extreme magical drainage and in the Dark Lord's already weakened state, it would give Potter enough of an opening to destroy the snake and cause the dark wizard's morality. Then all the boy would have to do is end everything once and for all.

The plan was solid enough but Antonin wouldn't rest until his master was assuredly dead.

At some point in the night, a knock sounded at their door and Antonin's wand was in his hand, just in case whoever it was would attempt to hex his ally in this endeavor. But the person behind the door was just his little witch with a tray of food.

"Hello Mr. Malfoy," she greeted pleasantly as she placed the tray on an end table.

"It's nice to see you again, Ms. Granger," the man politely replied as he collapsed onto a couch near the tray, stealing a plate before he could even release his breath.

Sitting across from the obviously hungry wizard, Antonin smiled in appreciation as Hermione handed him his own plate before sitting down next to him. "Have you two been hard at work?"

"Exceptionally so," he muttered before digging into the food in front of him. He could relate to Lucius' sudden lack of manners. It felt as though he had gone much longer without eating.

"Do you need any help?" She asked him as they neared completion of their meals. Wiping his mouth with the napkin on his thigh, he looked over her and raised a brow.

"Aren't you still learning about spell creation?"

She pouted slightly, "Well, yes. But I could still help you. Brightest witch of my age, you know?"

Antonin and Lucius both chuckled as the former said, "That you are. I suppose if you wish to waste away a few hours in our company, that's on you."

But Hermione only smiled brightly and kissed his cheek affectionately before telling him, "It's not a waste when I get to spend time with you."

Rubbing the spot where her lips touched him lightly, Antonin watched her collect their empty plates and return them to the kitchen with an airy expression that had Lucius grinning madly at him.

"Ah, I remember that feeling with my dear Narcissa. Nothing surpasses it."

"Do you still feel it? Even twenty years later?" The dark haired wizard asked quietly, genuinely curious.

"Every day, my friend. Every waking moment," the aristocrat said with a sigh. And Antonin couldn't help but smile and shake his head at the sentiment of it all. Who knew that two once formidable Death Eaters could be such putty in the hands of tiny witches.

But he supposed stranger things in life had happened.

When Hermione returned, the three of them continued their research with ease, gaining more confidence from his girl's Gryffindor confidence and the hope that sprouted from her. Both of the wizards had family and people they loved and cared about. They were doing this for them. Even more so than they were doing this for themselves.

And when they finally crashed for the night, Antonin's last coherent thought was the sight of Hermione sprawled across his lap and cuddled into his side, a book laid forgotten across her knees, and one of her hands in his. Meeting Lucius' eye from across the room, the two allies smiled briefly before both of them closed their eyes and welcomed a reprieve from their thought intensive mission.

At least until tomorrow.

* * *

The day that would be known as the final battle approached faster than anyone thought. It was barely a week into November when Antonin had informed the Order that Voldemort was making his plans to attack Hogwarts, knowing that Harry wouldn't sit idly by while the maniac desecrated his home.

And Hermione agreed. She wasn't about to allow that either. So the Order had begun making their own plans. None of them had yet been clued in to the outside help Antonin had been receiving and Hermione hoped he knew what he was doing.

She knew he was attempting to help bring about the downfall of a dangerous and tyrannical wizard, but he was risking isolating himself from the rest of the Order at the same time.

Part of her just wanted to let it slip so that any future problems could be avoided. The longer they put this off, the worse it would get.

So during one of the last meetings before the final battle, she told Antonin that either he had to tell everyone, or she was going to do it.

"Hermione," he had said exasperatedly, most likely not pleased with her words.

"Either you do it, or I will. But it needs to happen Antonin. They won't listen to reason after the fact. You know that. They'll see it as a betrayal."

And he knew she was right even as he muttered angrily about 'bloody Gryffindors.' She was use to his moods though. He didn't mean it; he was just under a lot of stress at this point.

She at least had found a sound solution to that problem. A vigorous, most decidedly pleasurable outlet indeed. And he certainly wasn't complaining.

When the meeting finally rolled around, Antonin had lived up to his word as she knew he would. And most of the Order had taken the news fairly well. Especially when Harry stood behind his decision. He didn't particularly like Professor Snape, but he respected his sacrifices and willingness to help them. And that was all that mattered to most of those in the room.

There had been a few complainants though. Namely Sirius and Moody. As usual.

"So we suddenly trust Snivellus now? Is that it?"

"I don't like it. Involving too many Death Eaters is just asking for bad news."

"I mean, despite the fact he's a greasy git, he's also the one who killed Dumbledore. Do we just conveniently forget about that?"

"I told you that Dolohov would be nothing but a traitor in the end."

And that was the final straw. Most of the witches and wizards in the room practically exploded at Moody's final words. Defending Antonin, criticizing Moody's paranoia, telling Sirius to shut up. It was absolute chaos.

Hermione watched with a furrowed brow as she stood next to her wizard who, oddly enough, didn't seemed very fazed by the going ons in the room. His eyes were slightly glazed over like he was in deep thought. She nudged him slightly to gain his attention and watched as his eyes flicked down to her before looking back up at the pandemonium in front of him.

"You were right," he breathed out audibly as the heated arguments continued to grow in volume. Mrs. Weasley seemed very close to putting her wand somewhere Hermione didn't think Moody would like very much.

"What was that?" She asked innocently enough, feigning deafness from the volume of the others in the room.

"You were right," he said a bit louder, but Hermione wasn't done with him yet.

"One more time?"

But she felt his hand swat at her bum in response and she burst out into a fit of giggles. She grinned up at him as he returned her look with his own smile.

After several calming draughts and more threats, the room finally quieted down and the real meeting could commence without issue. It passed by relatively quickly; the plan was already in motion. The Order would go to Hogwarts and defend it. With Antonin's new, completed spell, Voldemort would become magically crippled after using it, giving them ample time to find and destroy his snake/Horcrux.

And after that? Well… that was all down to Harry. But her best friend looked confident. She could see it in his emerald eyes. He had been waiting years for this moment.

Just as she had been waiting years to finally have her wizard.

* * *

Snape had fled.

The Carrows had been dispatched.

The wards were in place.

Hogwarts was ready for the final battle.

Hermione stood with Harry and Ron as they watched out over the bridge, waiting for Voldemort's army to arrive. Antonin would be "siding" with the Death Eaters until his master was crippled. After that, he, Snape, and Malfoy would switch sides and help defend Hogwarts until the battle was complete.

It was a simple enough plan, but Hermione knew that nothing ever worked out the way they wanted it to. Especially with the Golden Trio.

But she didn't have any more time to reflect on the matter. The sight of the approaching army had just appeared in front of the setting sun, giving them an almost ominous glow about them. But Antonin was with them. She didn't feel nearly as uneasy with that thought.

Heading out with Harry and Ron, they gathered with the rest of the Order and staff on the front lawns and watched as their enemy stepped within feet of them. The wards kept them back a distance, but it wouldn't take them too long to break through them. Especially with their current numbers. But it was mostly just Death Eaters and what looked like the occasional werewolf.

Apparently Voldemort hadn't had enough time to draw in anymore allies other than that.

 _Good_ , she thought with an internal smirk. Not only have we destroyed most of his soul that keeps his immortality, but we've ruined his plans at gaining a larger army.

Hermione spotted Antonin almost immediately. He stood closer to the front with the rest of the Inner Circle. Situated nicely between Snape and Malfoy. When their eyes met, he gave her a long, hard look that conveyed much more than she had ever seen before. Hope, fear, love, sadness, confidence. But she had enough stable feelings for the both of them. This would work. She just knew it.

"Harry Potter," the chilling voice of the dark wizard gained everyone's attention almost immediately. "I do hope your audience is prepared to witness your death."

"It won't be my death they see today, Tom," her friend replied in a courageous tone that swelled Hermione's heart. If he hadn't given up, then neither would she. Looking down, Hermione saw his familiar slithering a bit farther in front of him. She would need to be destroyed as soon as he used the curse.

Voldemort was clearly disgruntled by the usage of his birth name and inched closer to the wards as he commanded his men to begin disabling them. She saw the first layers disappear as soon as Antonin had raised his wand and knew that it was his brilliance at cursebreaking that did so. He still had appearances to keep after all.

When the wards were only thin layers away from breaching, Voldemort raised his wand and grinned hideously as he prepared to issue the curse he believed would destroy most of the Order in one hit.

But when the last barrier fell and he bellowed out the incantation Antonin and Lucius had prepared for him, a bright flash of blue appeared, surrounding the wizard and all those around him, before suctioning straight back into the source of the magic.

Voldemort screamed with an intensity that sounded as though he were on fire. Hermione could feel and almost see the magical energy around him crackling and quickly disappearing. His once white flesh looked charred in certain places and his wand arm was completely gone.

Leaping into action, she gripped her wand and raced after Harry and Ron who had beelined for the snake. Casting stunners and other various hexes at the snake, she and Ron attempted to distract it as Harry grabbed the Basilisk fang from his back pocket. Other Death Eaters began to raise their wands but none of their curses could penetrate a sudden shield that had been erected around the Trio.

She looked up to see the looks of pure concentration on Antonin, Snape, and Malfoy's faces as they each kept the protective wards around the three of them going strong. Hearing the supportive shouts from behind her, she continued to shoot spell after spell at the snake while Harry crept up on her.

After a particularly nasty Reducto, the serpent lunged towards Hermione, giving Harry the perfect opportunity to strike. He fell to the ground, bringing the fang down hard with all of this weight, and struck the snake right at the base of its head.

It instantly released a plethora of dark magic and the screaming from Voldemort rose in volume as he lost his last piece of immortality.

She could hear the rest of the Order behind her getting closer as the final battle truly began. The protective wards around the Trio disappeared as the Death Eaters began racing forward as well, determined to protect their master.

Hermione turned and launched into battle mode, blocking spells cast her way and countering with ones of her own. The energy around her was crackling as she launched spell after spell, fighting with an intensity she had never known she possessed before.

She cast a stunner at one approaching Death Eater, but missed the one that had just targeted her. A bright flash of red hurled towards her that was blocked by a dark figure stepping to her left. The looming figure of her boyfriend returned the curse and the attacking Death Eater fell to the ground, a horrified look on their face.

Many of the surrounding enemy now looked on in shock as Antonin, Snape, and Malfoy began attacking their former allies. Some of them managed to compose themselves quicker than others and fired back, but most fell swiftly to the talented wizards' combined efforts.

Hermione tried to stay focused on herself, knowing that if she got too distracted by those around her she ran the risk of getting hurt or worse. But it was comforting to know that Antonin remained close to her side. He seemed to have the same idea as her; if they stayed in each other's sight, they'd be less likely to worry about the other so much.

She had also spotted Harry dueling with a slightly recovered Voldemort, but she couldn't stop and watch. Not when curse after curse was being thrown her way. She had almost developed a pattern. Block, block, hex, stun, block, curse, block, and repeat.

A rhythm. One that would ultimately keep her alive for the duration of this battle.

Her confidence level was rising, especially after she managed to dispatch four Death Eaters in a row. They were winning. She just knew it.

But her hopes were dashed as a scream and a voice yelling, "Antonin!" came from behind her. Turning, she watched in horror as the boy from the photograph in her professor's room, the one he called Avery, held a murderous look on his face as he went to curse her distracted wizard.

But the spell never hit him. The bright flash of green struck Mr. Weasley instead.

The man had obviously rushed forward, determined to save the man he had once hated but now regarded as friend. And when his body hit the ground and Antonin had fully turned around, the look on his face was the first time Hermione had ever truly feared him.

And when he turned his attention to Avery, she knew the man didn't stand a chance. He apparently knew the same as his own face twisted from rage to terror. Hermione watched, rooted to the spot, as the man's body began twisting at awkward angles, bones breaking under the stress of it, his screams rising and then falling as he subsequently died a horrific death. His body hit the ground with an audible 'thud' as the silence around them became deafening.

The only source of noise came from the now sobbing Weasley's as they rushed to their fallen patriarch. A few Death Eaters managed to snap out of whatever trance they had previously been in and attempted to attack the distracted family. But the barrier that surrounded them was so powerful that the curses rebounded and hit those that had cast them.

Many of the others looked on in shock as Antonin began constructing wards around the grieving family, determined to make sure that none of them suffered further injury.

Hermione began firing curses at the stunned Death Eaters, as had most of the other members of the Order. They took down most of them before the others began throwing down their wands, realizing how futile this was at this point.

But the air that had once been filled with the sound of sorrow was soon filled with surprised gasps. Turning her head, Hermione saw her best friend fire one last spell at Voldemort before the snake-like man fell to the ground, defeated.

The Death Eaters that still held their wands instantly dropped them and surrendered.

The battle was over.

Breathing heavily, Hermione finally noticed the tax her increased magical energy had taken on her body. She felt like she could sleep for a hundred years and still wake up tired. Moving groggily, she looked up in surprise as members of the Ministry and Auror departments began arriving at the scene. They arrested the scattered Death Eaters and began apparating them away.

Feeling the finality of the situation actually sinking in, Hermione exhaled harshly before remembering her wizard. Looking up, she found him still in the same spot she had last seen him. He was outside of the wards he had created around the Weasley family, watching them with pure regret and sadness in his features.

Rushing towards him, she was ready to embrace him, to tell him that it was okay, that it wasn't his fault, she was grabbed by a Ministry official instead. Looking over in surprise, she watched as the grizzly man shook his head in disapproval. What did he think she was going to do? Attack him?

Returning her gaze to Antonin, she watched in shock as Aurors began restraining him. What were they doing? He wasn't on their side! He wasn't one of them! But her mouth couldn't cooperate and she ended up miming a fish as they apparated away with him.


	22. The Trials

**_The Trials_**

"Well… this is officially the worst day of my life," Lucius announced loudly. Looking up from their spots on the bench across from him, Antonin and Severus both narrowed their eyes before simultaneously rolling them in exasperation.

"Yes, we've heard. Nine times in fact," Snape grumbled before crossing his arms and looking back out of the small window their current holding cell possessed.

They were to have their trials today and none of them were particularly excited about the prospect of facing the wizarding government again. Especially not after their individual roles in the past few years. Antonin may have evaded prison once but he knew he most likely wouldn't be so fortunate this time around.

And Severus and Lucius, while both switching sides in the end, were still guilty of their own individual crimes against the wizarding world. Suffice to say that all three of them felt extremely screwed.

"I suppose neither of you have thought out a brilliant escape plan yet?" Lucius continued, still huffing angrily from his corner. Snape gave him a long side eye before turning back around and promptly ignoring the fuming wizard.

"I don't see any way of us getting out of this, Lucius. We aren't exactly innocent," Antonin replied after a long sigh. He knew that to be the truth, but it didn't make it any easier. He now had something even more important to remain free for. But the reality wasn't as pleasant as that thought.

"Aren't we though? We switched side. We fought with the beloved Order. We were all instrumental in Riddle's downfall, for Salazar's sake!"

"Yes and we also caused the death of countless innocent people. Or did you conveniently forget that part, you arrogant prat?" Snape interjected nastily, obviously annoyed with the direction the conversation was going.

All of them knew that they were guilty in some sense of the word. All that remained was whether or not they were guilty enough to be locked away in prison for an indeterminable amount of time.

"Dumbledore wasn't exactly innocent, now was he?" Malfoy muttered unhappily and Antonin couldn't help but agree with him even though Snape glared even harsher at him for it. He might have been upset with the murder he had to commit for the "greater good," but Antonin certainly had no qualms about it.

The word was better off without men like that. The ones who would use others for their own selfish means.

"When do we leave for our trials?" Lucius asked, apparently not appreciating the joys that silence had to offer.

"Any minute now," Antonin speculated. They were each scheduled in the coming hour, back to back. They were kept cut off from the rest of the captured Death Eater population due to conflictions of the state of their allegiance during the final battle. Many thought that they were just playing their cards right and attempting to get out of jail time while others truly believed they were fighting for the Light Side.

They were partially right, at the very least. Lucius was fighting for his family and their future, Severus for redemption, and Antonin for Hermione. Each man had his own reasons for what they did. But would it be enough to save them from Azkaban?

Sure enough, a few moments later and the door to their cell was magically opening and important looking Ministry officials entered their room. Antonin didn't care for the way they were looking down their noses at the three of them but if he were in their position and looking at potentially dangerous but caged Death Eaters, he might have done the same.

Then again, he unfortunately knew most of them personally.

Their hands were bound and attached to one another and they were swiftly led from the room, appearing in some random hallway inside of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Antonin had had the pleasure of being in this side of the Ministry a few times in the past, usually because Moody put him there.

They maneuvered through the hallways and finally paused outside of a door leading to what must have been the council chamber. It was where their trials would take place. A single Ministry man stayed with them while the others went inside of the chambers.

Not knowing if they were supposed to remain silent or not, Antonin decided it would be the best course of action. He didn't need any more problems so close to a bunch of self-righteous, pompous bureaucrats deciding his fate.

As the three of them waited patiently, each of them consumed in their own thoughts, a voice called down from the end of the hallway, "Dolohov!"

Turning to look at the source, Antonin watched as Sirius Black charged down the hallway with purpose, followed closely by what must have been the entire bloody Order of the Phoenix, a load of schoolchildren, and his mother.

"Excuse me, but these prisoners are being-" The Ministry official tried to say, but surprisingly, Moody swiftly cut him off.

"Shut it, Neely. And shove off. Tonks and I can watch these three."

The man, Neely, gave the wizened Auror an affronted look but skirted around the approaching group and left all the same. Looking at the surrounding people, Antonin couldn't help but gape at them. Had all of them really come just to support the three of them?

"Come to see us off, have you?" Snape asked sarcastically.

"We've come to make sure you lot _don't_ end up behind bars," Tonks replied dryly, but sending a wink their way to show her apparent support.

Antonin would have chuckled until he caught the sight of a curly haired witch standing in between her speckled and freckled best friends. She met his eye and rushed forward, quickly wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He cursed the officials for binding his wrists because he wanted nothing more than to reciprocate the loving embrace.

Until he remembered their audience, that is.

But the majority of the people standing around them looked as though nothing was out of the ordinary. Some, like Mrs. Weasley, even had smiles on their faces. Surely they didn't all know about the two of them, could they?

Antonin couldn't be sure, but he smiled down at Hermione nonetheless. She looked up at him with watery eyes and mumbled, "They can't take you. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Hush, _moy svet_ , I don't plan on going anywhere."

"Hopefully that faith will actually keep us out of prison," Lucius sighed out from behind him. Hermione giggled into his chest and Antonin knew that she would be alright. She was just scared for him. And while he was nervous too, he wouldn't show it. He would remain confident for her and her alone.

"We're glad you're alright, professor," Potter offered with a kind smile. Antonin inclined his head politely while the youngest Weasley boy exclaimed, "Yeah! They just bloody took you lot before any of us could even react! And Mione was crying and Dad… Dad was gone and literally no one had any clue what was happening!"

Well… Antonin was now thankful they had bound him or else he might have smacked the boy on the back of his head. But, idiot as he was, he was still attempting to be helpful in his own special way. And he was now getting a bit too teary eyed at the thought of his fallen father.

The entire hallway went silent in memory of the man. Antonin wished that there was something he could say, anything, to make their loss better. But there was nothing. Arthur Weasley had died protecting Antonin Dolohov from Avery.

But the family quickly recovered and were all weak smiles nonetheless. This was their strength, Antonin noted. Their courage and their recovery. He couldn't help but breathe out a laugh. _Bloody Gryffindors…_

The doors next to them opened suddenly and one of the previous Ministry officials balked as he took in the sight of the group of people in front of him. But he recovered and addressed the three prisoners in a self-important voice, "Dolohov, Snape, and Malfoy. Enter the chamber and wait your turn for the trials to begin."

Antonin made to move forward but the witch wrapped around him prevented such an action. He tried to whisper her name but she only continued to shake her head and tighten her grip. He looked up in defeat and suddenly his mother was beside the two of them and put a hand on his little witch.

"It'll be alright, Hermione. You'll come sit with us and we'll see this farce through together," his mother whispered soothingly into her ear. That caused his girl to loosen herself just a bit and turn to look up at the matronly woman.

"Come _sestrenka_ , it'll be over before you know it," Masha murmured as she helped detach Hermione from him. As much as he wanted her to stay with him, his mother was correct. It would be over soon and then they could finally be together with no more hinders.

"Honestly Granger, we all understand that you're in love with Dolohov, but do try to contain yourself until _after_ this ridiculous publicity stunt is complete," Snape exasperated with a roll of his eyes.

Antonin would have grinned at the sour man if the chorus of gasps and accompanying gaping mouths weren't the more pressing issue.

"What?" Potter asked in confusion.

"Mione and…?" Weasley's eyes narrowed in thought.

"She's… what?" Lupin questioned after sharing a surprised look with his girlfriend who could only shrug in response.

"Hermione dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked in concern, looking from the two of them with growing apprehension.

"Well then… Apparently we didn't _all_ know," Snape added as a second thought before walking through the opened door. At the annoyed look on the Ministry officials face, Antonin soon followed through along with Lucius.

His face must have been a matching red to Hermione's but he swallowed down the feelings of humility and refocused on the thought of being able to explain everything _after_ he avoided Azkaban.

* * *

" _Antonin Vladimirovich Dolohov_. You stand accused of Death Eater affiliation, the creation of dark and/or nefarious curses, and the murder of Muggles and magical individuals. What say you in your defense?"

 _Well when they put it that way…_

He had sat through both Snape and Malfoy's trials in somewhat awe. Lucius had finagled his way out of prison by releasing details of other, lesser known Death Eaters and their sympathizers and, of course, offering up a retribution fee.

Severus had explained in great detail his role as Dumbledore's spy since the First War and even gave up the memories of their conversations together, allowing all the members of the Wizengamot to see the truth for themselves. But because of his usage of the Killing Curse against a High Warlock and Lucius' admittance of guilt to his own charges, both were placed under house arrest. A parole of sorts. But they were free.

And now, Antonin couldn't help but feel that the overwhelming wash of guilt that settled over him was duly appropriate. He wasn't entirely innocent. Sure, most of what he had done was necessary to keep up appearances and wasn't exactly by personal preference, but it didn't make him any less responsible.

"I…" He started but his voice trailed off as reality began to hit home. He _wasn't_ innocent; far from it really. He had murdered Muggles, he had created curses that were used to torture and kill both magical and non-magical people, and he had remained a Death Eater. He hadn't even been punished for his crimes during the First War. He had escaped that fate, but did he even want to escape this one?

Shouldn't this be his penance?

"Yes, Mr. Dolohov?" The acting Minister, Shacklebolt, asked him politely, giving him an encouraging look. But Antonin didn't know anymore. He wanted freedom for Hermione, but what about himself? Could he live with himself knowing that he only bypassed prison due to the help of someone else?

Looking up towards the crowd of people gathered to support him, he took in the sight of Hermione's frantic face. She always saw a hero when she looked at him; a good man, she always said. If she still believed in him after all this time… Why couldn't he be too?

"The charges I have received are justly given," he announced suddenly, ignoring the gasps coming from the crowd he had looked away from. "But… Given the circumstances, I would argue that they were for the greater good."

"The greater good?" One of the robed figures asked skeptically, probably familiar with Dumbledore's notion of the concept.

"Yes. I remained a Death Eater to bring the downfall of the Dark-… Of Voldemort," he stated, using the wizard's name as proof. "I saved five of the six schoolchildren involved in the Department of Mysteries battle. I protected Hogwarts before the death of Albus Dumbledore. I have saved Harry Potter's life on more than one occasion, even going as far to remove the piece of Voldemort's soul that had been residing inside of him."

Members of the Wizengamot sat wide-eyed and silent as he continued on, "Yes, I created numerous dark curses as was directed of me. But I also created the counter-curses and would administer them, or spread word about them through the Order whenever I could. I gave up my own childhood home as the new location of the Order's headquarters when they had been displaced from their previous one."

"And I created the spell that ended up crippling Voldemort during the final battle. I purposely made it as such and knew of the reaction that would occur. I had been hoping for it, really. Because I never wanted to _be_ a Death Eater. I don't believe in blood supremacy. I am not just another dark wizard to be locked away and forgot about."

Looking back towards the stands of onlookers, he locked eyes with his little witch and murmured, "I am a good man."

The look on her face solidified his decision. He would never accept anything less than freedom, not when he had someone on the outside who looked at him like that. He would never leave her alone in this world. Not when he could help it.

"We see…" One of the members said with a nod. "The only thing we ask, Mr. Dolohov, is proof. Can you prove to this council that you are not simply a dark wizard as you stated?"

Proof? Where they even bloody listening during his speech?! That was all the proof they needed!

Tampering down his anger, he instead wracked his brain. What could he do to prove to them all that he wasn't just a dark wizard? _Was_ there anything he could do? Nothing was coming straight to mind.

"A patronus!" A familiar voice shouted out. Every eye in the room fell to Hermione as she stood from her place in between his mother and Potter. "He can cast a patronus. No purely dark wizard can do that."

Feeling a huge rush of affection pouring into his veins, he smiled warmly up at his girl as the members of the council deliberated amongst themselves.

"Give him his wand. We'll see for ourselves," Shacklebolt issued, nodding towards the officials who had taken him in and taken his wand from him.

Once his bounds were released and the familiar piece of wood was placed back in his hands, he gave himself a moment to clear his thoughts and calm himself. He had been able to cast a corporeal patronus since he was twenty-three. A non-corporeal one since he was seventeen. He could do this. He _would_ do this.

Bringing forth every single memory he had of Hermione Granger, from the outspoken, awestricken eleven-year-old that sat in the front row of his classes to the curly haired goddess that sat waiting for him on the other side, he brought each and every one of them to the forefront of his mind.

Raising his arm, he performed the elegant motion and shouted, " _Expecto Patronum_!" and watched as the familiar silvery otter burst forth and playfully swam through the air in front of the council and crowd of onlookers.

"My otter," he saw Hermione mouth as she watched his patronus with focused eyes. When she met his gaze again, the whole room seemed to go quiet. Hell, it might have, he just wasn't paying any attention to it.

"I should have told you it changed…" He spoke up to her, watching her varying reactions with bated breath.

"When?" She asked softly, searching his face for something, anything.

"Somewhere between your fourth and sixth year. I'm not entirely sure when," he explained to her with a small smile. She went silent for a moment before her own wand was out and she was casting the exact same spell.

Antonin's breath caught in his throat as the familiar sight of his tiger pounced over the railing above him and trotted through the air weightlessly.

"It happened the summer before sixth year…" She told him quietly, watching her patronus intently.

"Hermione…" He said her name reverently, like it was a prayer that could save him. She already had, anyways. The thought of her alone would keep him out of prison if he had any say in the matter.

"What does this mean, Antonin?" She asked, finally meeting his eye again. She looked so unsure, so surprised, so conflicted.

But he had never seen life as being any clearer.

"It means I love you," he said confidently, smiling when he caught the shock that crossed her face. "It means I have always loved you and that I'm the biggest git in the country for not telling you that sooner."

"I love you too," she choked out as tears filled her eyes and sobs began to wrack her body. She had to sit down and Masha rubbed her shoulders soothingly as she looked down at her son, proudly than he had ever seen her.

"Well… pleasant as this has been, it's time for the ruling, don't you think?" Shacklebolt announced with a conspiratory wink in Antonin's direction.

He chuckled lightly as he stood at attention as the Wizengamot gave their final ruling. "All in favor of conviction?"

Antonin saw a few spare hands raise here and there. "All in favor of release with no issue?" Most hands in the council raised immediately, causing his heart to practically beat right out of his chest.

The now grinning Minister addressed him with, "Antonin Dolohov, this council hereby finds you not guilty. You are free to go."

And the first thing that registered to Antonin between Shacklebolt's words and leaving the Ministry altogether, was the warm embrace that stayed wrapped around him and the smell of vanilla and strawberries.


	23. Year One-Shot

_A/N: This is just a silly little extra before the epilogue._

 ***Side note- This chapter takes place the summer after the final battle***

 **Year One-Shot – Potions + Professors = Pandemonium**

Hermione moved the porridge in her bowl around idly as she wore a face that was undoubtingly sour. She was back in Grimmauld Place and, nice as it was to be in the familiar surroundings again, she would have preferred to be in the place that she had begun to consider home.

Castle Combe; Current residence of the Dolohov family.

Except none of them were there for the time being. Masha was visiting relatives in Russia, Katarina was touring America with Sirius, Remus, and Tonks, and Antonin was spending most of his day-to-day at Malfoy Manor.

What he was doing exactly, she couldn't say. He was very secretive about it when he returned and was adamant that she not inquire too much until he had better results. But from what she had gathered, him, Mr. Malfoy, and Professor Snape were experimenting and creating different… things.

After his subsequent release and the threats surrounding them all but obliterated, Antonin had practically become a different wizard. He joined in conversations more frequently, he walked taller, like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, and he had even done something that shocked most of the Order.

He accepted Professor McGonagall's request to return to Hogwarts as the new Charms professor.

Apparently Professor Flitwick had decided on retiring now that the world was predominantly a safe place and she couldn't think of anyone more qualified. He had readily accepted, a smile on his face as Hermione had watched him ink out a reply.

But another owl came the next day, for her instead. It was again from Professor McGonagall, asking her if she wanted to return to Hogwarts to complete her missed seventh year.

She had discussed it backwards and forwards with Antonin and by the end of several cups of tea, a few tears, and some much needed cuddles, she had declined the offer, stating that while Hogwarts would always be a second home to her, she wouldn't have felt right about returning now that she no longer felt like a student.

But the new Headmistress had understood and just continued throwing out the shockers when she instead offered Hermione an internship as an assistant professor. She was apparently creating the new position to accommodate different students in her situation who wanted to return to Hogwarts, but not as students. Neville and Padma had already accepted, the former in Herbology and the later in Divination.

And now Hermione made three.

In, _of_ _course,_ Charms.

Antonin had promised that they would _try_ to get work done. Key word being 'try.' But Hermione knew that he was pleased that they would stay together and not have to continue breaching the student/teacher roles. She would be his equal now and she couldn't have been happier.

Even now that everyone knew about their relationship, nothing was changed. It had taken some people longer to stop finding it bizarre, but most came around after seeing the two of them together. Antonin, for his part, ignored any odd look he got whenever he kissed Hermione or wrapped his arms around her. And that probably helped with the acceptance process. A bit.

They still had to get Ron to stop making faces every time they did something even remotely affectionate.

But she knew Antonin was glad that he didn't have to hide anymore. And so was she. She loved the public displays of affection they did for each other. They were both relatively territorial of the other so it worked quite well for them.

"Hermione, dear," Mrs. Weasley asked from the other side of the kitchen, "Is the porridge too hot?"

Blinking back into the present, Hermione shook her head and pulled on a smile, "No, sorry, I was just out of it for a minute."

"He'll be back soon," the matronly witch said with a wink as she went back to bustling around the room. Hermione turned her bright red face back to the food in front of her and continued to eat silently. She still couldn't get over how supportive the matriarch was of her and Antonin's relationship. It was as though she could already hear wedding bells.

As she neared the end of the bowl, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the twins all walked in from their mock Quidditch match in the surprisingly beautiful weather England had been experiencing recently.

They all sat down, jokes amuck and conversation galore. Hermione relished in the opportunity to be pulled from her thoughts and welcomed the growing noise. The probably past a solid hour like this, snacking and chatting.

It wasn't until the sound of Mrs. Black's portrait going crazy disturbed them that they finally settled down. Mrs. Weasley huffed angrily and went to go silence the screeching but it stopped almost as quickly as it started.

Perplexed, the woman stayed where she was and the kids all craned their necks to see who was talented enough to silence the banshee impersonator as quickly as they had. Hermione would've thought it was Antonin, but he wasn't due back until dinner.

It was a Slytherin though.

Professor Snape, in all his black garb, stood outside of the opened door to the kitchen with a strange expression on his face. It seemed like a mixture of discomfort and thoughtfulness.

"Oh! Is there an occasion for your visit, Severus?" Mrs. Weasley asked kindly as she wiped her hands on her apron. Professor Snape looked almost at a loss for words as he appeared to consider her question.

"There has been an… incident…" He worded carefully.

"What's happened?" Harry asked suddenly, interrupting whatever Mrs. Weasley had been about to say. Professor Snape eyed him silently for a moment before shifting in obvious discomfort.

"Perhaps… It would be simpler to just _show_ you," he said slowly before moving out of the way of the doorway. Except nothing was there in his place. He looked down in obvious annoyance before turning to the left.

"Damn it, just get it over with. It's not going away anytime soon," he hissed out.

And the seven of them watched with visual interest as a small figure appeared in the doorway. It looked to be a child, maybe four or five years old with a head of curly brown hair. But the strangest thing was how much he resembled…

"Antonin?" She muttered in disbelief. The entire room went silent after her utterance as everyone seemed to be processing the situation at different speeds.

Professor Snape coughed unnecessarily before explaining, "Yes, this is Dolohov. There was a… mishap with a De-Aging Drought. It isn't permanent, but it will take at least 24 hours to move through his system. He's of no use to us at the manor like this so I've returned him to you."

"Is he… actually a kid right now?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"He retains his mind. It is just his… appearance that has been altered." Professor Snape took one last look at his shrunken colleague before shaking his head and turning away. "I'll leave him in your care then."

And he was gone.

Hermione couldn't even believe what she was looking at was a toddler sized version of her boyfriend. He met her gaze and she could see the embarrassment and desire to flee written in his big eyes. Taking the initiative, she quickly stood up and walked over towards him.

"Um… let's just go into a different room until this wear's off, yeah?" He nodded slightly before taking her hand in what was probably one of the cutest ways Hermione had ever seen in her entire life. He looked so bashful and shy that Hermione wanted to just pick him up and fawn over him.

But knowing that it was still Antonin on the interior caused her to pause and simply walk up the stairs and head to his old room from when he used to stay in Grimmauld Place.

Once they were safely on the inside, she warded the door shut and let out a long breath as she examined the tiny wizard in front of her. He barely made it to her hip and was just looking up at her with those big, brown eyes of his. He looked so much like a puppy that it was taking all of her willpower to not fuss over him.

But she lost that fight.

Stroking his hair, she ended up squealing shrilly before grabbing him underneath his arms and picking him up, hugging him to her chest. She could hear him making muffled noises but ignored them as she began babbling, "Oh my gosh, do you even realize how cute you are right now?"

"H-Hermione," he said as he struggled against her, but the squeaky, foreign voice came as such a shock to her that she pulled him away slightly to look at him in surprise.

"Why do you sound like that?" She asked dumbly.

"I'm in the body of a child, did you really expect me to sound like a forty-year-old man?" He said in a very Antonin-esque way. Even the look on his face resembled something similar that the man would have taken when he was annoyed or exasperated with her.

Except this face had adorable chubby cheeks. So… she couldn't really take him seriously at all.

"How did this even happen?" She questioned as she went to put him back down, albeit reluctantly.

"Like Severus told you, a De-Aging potion went awry. It was only supposed to be a temporary, appearance enhancer, but I ended up like this," he said with a short gesture towards his body.

"And it'll disappear on its own?"

Antonin sighed lightly and shrugged his tiny shoulders, "Supposedly. We aren't exactly sure what _will_ happen. But that's been our best guess."

Hermione sat down on the armchair in the room and inspected him critically. He really was an adorable child, even when he had his brow furrowed as the man would typically do.

He looked up at her and the furrow increased as he asked, "Why are staring at me like that?"

She smiled for a moment before answering him, "I'm just wondering if this is what it'll be like to look at any of our future children."

Hermione giggled slightly at the sight of the toddler's bright red face. He padded over to her as he quietly said, "I'm sure they'll resemble you quite a bit as well."

"I don't know," she said with feigned uncertainty, reaching out to stroke his hair again, "I'd be okay if they only looked like you. You really are utterly adorable."

He tried to chuckle but it came out as a childish laugh that had Hermione laughing even harder. She picked him up again and placed him on her lap, pulling him against her like one would do when comforting a child. "Let's just relax for a bit. And hope that you're back to normal before too long."

She felt his little head nod against her chest and the both of them just seemed to drift off into a peaceful midmorning nap.

Upon waking, Hermione first noticed the heaviness that sat upon her frame. It was significantly more than what she had fallen asleep with. Opening one eye, she was met with the same brown hair but it was wavy rather than curly and much closer to her face.

Sitting up a bit, she noticed that the frame against her was much, much longer but still as lean. He must have aged during the brief period of their nap. Poking his head, she murmured, "Antonin, wake up. You've gotten bigger, and heavier."

She felt him stir slightly and one of his arms reached up to wrap around her neck, snuggling closer to her. Still a bit uncomfortable from the weight disposition, she nudged him a bit more.

"Antonin!" She chastised again, only a tad louder.

Her wizard drowsily picked his head up and Hermione was met by the face of what must have been a fifteen or sixteen-year-old Antonin. He had a smooth and soft looking face, no stubble whatsoever, and looked generally younger.

His eyes widened a bit when he noticed what she had been talking about and he lurched off of her. "I'm sorry, are you alright? I didn't hurt you did I?"

Well, at least his voice was almost back to normal. It was lower than it had been at any rate. But it was clear he hadn't yet hit the end of his puberty.

She smiled brightly at him, "I'm fine. It was just a bit awkward now that you're…" She gestured to his larger form than actually answering.

He looked down at himself and Hermione must have seemed perplexed at the state of his cloths still fitting him because he quickly explained, "It's a handy charm. Makes your cloths fit for any occasion. Usually reserved for holiday dinners but it apparently works on a larger spectrum too."

"Aren't you just full of tricks," she teased lightly. But ended up bursting out into laughter at the blush that crossed her wizards face. It seemed like that trait was even more prominent when he was younger.

"I didn't embarrass you, did I?" She asked with feigned innocence. He turned away from her slightly but she could see that the tint was still prominent and was quickly spreading to his neck as well.

"I think I get it," she purred out, still having too much fun embarrassing the normally stoic wizard. His eyes looked over in curiosity as she said, "You must have been the total shy boy in school. Did that ever actually get you any witches?"

Laughing again at the affronted look on the now teenager's face, she clutched at her stomach as he grumpily muttered, "I did alright."

As her chuckles slowly subsided into the occasional giggle, Hermione watched the wizard in front of her carefully. He was awfully gangly at this age, similar to how he had been in the picture with his housemates. It was like his limbs were too long for his frame. Even just standing there he seemed more like a baby gazelle than the wizard she knew and loved.

Well, except for the height. That must have been the first thing puberty gave him. He was already an impressive six foot and had most likely gained the extra six inches between this point and his early twenties.

"You're staring again," he quickly pointed out, most likely growing uncomfortable with her inspection of him.

"Sorry," she murmured as her eyes dropped. "It's just strange seeing you like this in person as opposed to pictures."

"It's strange being this age again," he admitted as he paced a bit around the bedroom. "It feels like nothing fits correctly. And I have the strange urge to explore myself again as I did when I was this age," he practically whispered, probably more to himself in thought than to her. But she picked up on it nonetheless.

"What do you mean?" She asked in confusion.

His brows furrowed as he turned to her, "What?"

"You said you had a strange urge to explore yourself. What does that mean?" She said in an exasperated huff. But her feelings quickly changed as he looked up and away from her in embarrassment again.

Raising an eyebrow, she tried to regain his attention, "Antonin?"

"I didn't think you'd hear that."

"Well I did. So what are you talking about?"

He still didn't meet her eye as he slowly explained, "How did you explore your body when you were this age, Hermione?"

She wrinkled her nose in concentration as she thought back to that time. The only thing she could really remember was… feeling her growing breasts and exploring…

Oh.

Her face must have been bright red because Antonin took one look at it and nodded in finality, "Exactly my sentiments."

"I mean… you can if you want to," she tried saying but the wizard only shook his head far too urgently.

"It's just a nostalgic feeling. Not actually something I particularly want to relive."

"I know what you mean. I think I'd pull all my hair out before I experience being a teenager again," she said with a chuckle.

"It'll take you awhile," he deadpanned as the two looked at one another. Quickly realizing he was making a quip about the amount of hair she possessed, she stuck her tongue out and ignored his accompanying chuckles.

"Sorry _daragaya_ , but you made that too easy," he said in between in guffaws. Hermione only crossed her arms and watched him in irritation as he continued loping around the room, his gait not quite the impressive stalk he usually had.

"Do you miss being a student at Hogwarts?" She asked as he inspected the different tomes on the shelves of one bookcase.

He seemed to ponder her question for a bit before answering, "Sometimes. I never quite left Hogwarts since I returned as a professor, but I have fond memories of being a student. I learned more about myself as a person."

"Like what?" She asked as she brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, watching him with her full focus.

"Slytherin sensibilities. The good ones, not the ones they're usually known for. Loyalty was one of the most important ones. That and self-preservation. I don't think I'd be alive today if it weren't for those two. But the house also taught me that pureblood superiority really was a load of crock."

"It did?" Her interest was visibly peaked. He always mentioned before that it was primarily his mother who taught him the truth of purebloods being the same as everyone else.

Antonin made a positive humming noise before he said, "Yes, seeing the interior of the house showed me that purebloods could put up a good outward appearance but on the inside, they were just like the majority of the others. Complicated and imperfect people."

"With decidedly boring teenage problems. That is one aspect I will never miss," he said with a feigned shudder and she couldn't help but agree. Especially after living with Parvati and Lavender for so long.

She opened her mouth to ask another question but the raised voice of Mrs. Weasley caused her to pause. "Hermione dear? Could you come help Ginny and I with dinner?"

"Sure!" She called back. Looking apologetically at Antonin, he waved her away.

"I'll be down when you're done."

"Are you sure? I can always just bring you up a plate."

He shook his head, "It's fine. I'm no longer in the body of a child so I don't feel the need to hide myself away."

Walking over to him, she pecked him on the cheek and smiled when she noticed how she could really see the indents on his cheeks now that he had no hair.

"I'll see you in an hour or so," she told him.

"I'll be there," he promised.

The time spent making dinner and setting the dining room table actually passed by relatively slow in Hermione's opinion. Her constant huffing, checking the clock, and sneakily asking when Mrs. Weasley thought dinner would be done was a pretty big tell. Even Ginny was having a hard time not making a comment about her friend's obvious impatience.

But the both of them did focus on the root of Hermione's restlessness. They asked how Antonin was doing, whether or not he was actually aging as Professor Snape had suggested he might, and even Hermione's own thoughts on the matter.

It helped. A little.

"Alright, I'll go and tell the _boys_ that dinner's ready," Ginny said with a smirk, emphasizing the fact that Antonin was still in the body of a teenager.

Hermione giggled slightly before moving out into the dining room to place the last of the silverware onto the table. She took her usual seat as everyone in the house began to trickle in. When everyone but Antonin was there, Hermione figured he might have just changed his mind and had decided that doing this whole "group dining thing" while he was physically younger than the rest of them would be too uncomfortable.

For yet another time in her life, she was glad she was so very wrong.

"Please excuse my tardiness, Molly. The potion began to wear off a bit more so I waited for it to finish," the familiarly low and husky voice issued. Hermione looked up at the exact same time everyone else did.

Chaos ensued almost immediately.

Ginny had spat out the bit of water that had been in the cup she had been trying to take a drink from. Harry's fork dropped, Ron actually stopped piling food onto his plate, and the twins actually had nothing to say for once.

Mrs. Weasley blinked in apparent shock and Hermione… Well, Hermione had never wanted to maul the man to ground in such a state of lust until now.

He appeared to have aged yet another ten years and now stood in his six foot six, rugged Statue of Michael glory. Antonin really must have meant what he said about being able to get witches whenever he wanted one. If this was what happened between fifteen and twenty-five… She could completely understand.

He was closer to her version, but this one was fresh faced, less weary, lacked the bit of wear and tear that made him Antonin. He was almost… flawless, really. And she greatly appreciated this version _almost_ as much as she did her actual one.

Nothing beat the original. But this one was doing a bang up job of it.

He walked, completely oblivious, into the room and took his seat next to her. He began placing some food on his plate before he looked up at the feeling of all eyes on him.

He let out a small sigh before leaning his elbows against the table, "Alright… Why is everyone staring at me _this_ _time_?"

"Um, maybe because you are totally gorgeous," Ginny exclaimed enthusiastically. Antonin raised a brow but didn't say anything.

"Ginny dear, mind your manners. But she does have a point Antonin. You do look… lovely," Mrs. Weasley said with a bright smile. At that, Antonin finally broke his stoic reprise and coughed awkwardly before picking up his silverware and digging into his food.

Everyone else seemed to follow suit but every once in a while, someone just happened to look up and find their eyes glued to the familiar yet obviously different wizard. Usually it was Hermione.

When the meal was over, she excused herself, dragging Antonin along with her. He moved in surprise but followed diligently. She could hear Ginny and the twins wolf whistling behind her but she didn't even care. She wanted him and she wanted him now.

Pushing him into his room, she warded the door close and issued a silencing charm as her wizard huffed out, "What's all this about?"

"Cloths. Off. Now." She told him as she began to methodically rip her own cloths off. He only watched her in shock before she grabbed his shirt and yanked the buttons out of their slots before finally getting the hint.

"So am I more appeasing to you like this?" He asked teasingly. She growled slightly at his lack of effort to help her get him out of his cloths. But that still didn't stop her mission.

She felt his hands grasp hers though as they drifted to his belt buckle. His face came closer to hers as he securely held her there. "Answer the question, Hermione," he drawled out slowly.

"You're still Antonin, just… a younger, spryer version of him," she explained as sexual frustration began to set in.

He chuckled slightly as he leaned even closer to her, "You'd think that, but I doubt I've ever lost my touch. Would you like to find out?"

She nodded eagerly as he released her hands and helped her finish the grueling process of removing his trousers. He easily picked her up with one arm and swung her around until her back was on top of his four poster bed. She wound her arms around his neck and went to pull him in for a quick kiss, but he kept his lips pressed against hers, ignoring the urgency in Hermione's body language.

"Hermione," he whispered. " _Moya_ _lyubov'_."

"Your love?" She asked breathlessly, just barely holding onto her own mind as his breath skittered across her bare neck and chest.

He hummed in approval, "You've been studying."

"It puts us on the same level."

"You don't have to worry about that. I'll gladly kneel for you."

"Promise?" She said as his lips trailed down her stomach and hips.

"Promise," he issued before reaching her sweet spot. She moaned out in pleasure as his tongue did delicious things to her entire body. Her peaking orgasm was one of the best she could remember, baring the first one she ever experienced with him.

When he came back up and allowed her to take a breather, she muttered out softly it home, "Do you promise that I'm your love?"

"The only one I've ever had," he murmured as he stroked her hair back and planted a soft kiss to her forehead. "And the only one I've ever _wanted_."


	24. Epilogue

_**Epilouge**_

"What are you doing in that tree?" Antonin yelled frantically as he stepped out onto his porch. The sound of two girlish giggles followed suit as he rushed down the steps and into the front yard.

"Lucille and Masha Dolohov, you answer me this instance!" He demanded from his twin three year olds as they continued to ignore him from their spot up in the tall birch tree.

"We didn't climb, Papa."

"We just _appeared_ up here."

"It was like magic!" They simultaneously exclaimed before bursting into another round of giggles.

Feeling a tug on his pant leg, Antonin looked down to see his year-old son smiling up at him. "Up in tree too, Pa," he said confidently, or in what he most likely suspected to be confident for a toddler.

"Not today, Dolph," he said in a soft voice before looking back up at his chatterbox set of daughters. "And you two had better be out that tree and ready for dinner before your mother finds out what you've been up to," he said in his best fatherly voice. He was still working out the different tones but it seemed like they got the picture once he heard their defeated groans.

"Yes, Papa," came their resigned chorus.

Preening at his small win, he reached down to pick his son up in a one armed grasp before moving back onto to the porch, looking out occasionally to make sure his girls were getting out of the tree alright on their own. Salazar knew he would never hear the end of it if he offered to help. They were very independent children.

But it wasn't like he didn't know where they got it from. Just look at their parents.

Smiling slightly, he swung Dolph around in his arm in slow movements that had the toddler's feet moving in large circles that were keeping him readily occupied as his sister's finally hit the grass and came running back up to him.

"Can we go to Hogwarts now that we've done magic, Papa?" His eldest daughter, Masha, asked excitedly as she crashed into one of his long legs.

His other daughter, Lucille, ran up the stairs but stopped abruptly upon hearing her sister's question. She wrinkled her brow in what Hermione said was the exact same manner that he did before saying, "We can't go to Hogwarts until we're eleven, Masha. Mama said so."

She had also inherited her mother's know-it-all attitude and persona, but Antonin didn't keep his bollocks for these past few years by telling her that.

"Papa, pleeeease," Masha begged from underneath her brother's swinging feet.

Chuckling, Antonin reached down with his free hand to smooth the dark curls from her face before whispering, "I'll take you to visit the castle tomorrow. But only if you don't tell your mother. Promise?"

"Promise!" The tiny, hushed voice replied.

"Can I go too Papa?" Lucy asked, looking up at him with her big, whiskey colored eyes.

"Of course. We'll leave Dolph to distract Mama, right?" He said in a conspiratory voice, causing devilish grins to appear on his girls' faces. He suspected that they'd make grand Slytherins when they finally arrived for sorting at Hogwarts.

"Mama?" Dolph asked innocently before squirming around in Antonin's arm, trying to get free of the grasp. Gingerly placing him back on the ground, he watched as the boy toddled off in search of his mother and Antonin felt the need to do the same.

"Come along, _devochki_. You'll mother should be done by now."

He moved into his childhood home with the twins rushing past him and going straight for the dining room. As he neared closer, he could hear his wife's intoxicating laughter echo through the rooms and out into the hall. Feeling a smile creep across his face, he swung opened the door to see Hermione holding their son high above her head as the pair laughed and laughed.

As she brought him back to the ground, she looked up to meet his eye, a huge smile on her face as they took in the sight of each other. "Dinner's ready," she said happily.

"Yay!" The girl's exclaimed as they took their seats at the table. Antonin shook his head slightly before moving into the room to take his seat directly next to Hermione. She grasped his hand underneath of the table and squeezed as their children began digging into their food.

"I'm surprised they didn't kill you in such a short time. Did you have any problems?" She teased as he grabbed his glass of tea.

Scoffing, he remarked, "Nothing I couldn't handle. I do have an impressive history of dealing with children."

He heard her tut lightly from next to him before she said, "I do hope you don't treat them all the same way you treated me."

Feeling his face grow hot, he turned to scowl at her but it melted away as he looked into her eyes and remembered the situation he was in. Married to the love of his life, living in his childhood home, and surrounded by their children.

It was everything he had ever wanted but never thought he could have.

Taking her hand that was still intertwined with his, he kissed the back of it before telling her, "Never. It was a special situation for a special witch."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

* * *

"I don't see why you think it's such a big deal," Hermione said disinterestedly as she flipped through a recent copy of Witch Weekly. Looking up from a particularly juicy article about Sirius Black and Pansy Parkinson's engagement, she watched her pacing husband move back and forth across their shared living area.

"A Hufflepuff, Hermione. Hufflepuff!" His arms rose with emphasis and Hermione could only quirk an eyebrow at the normally stoic man's unusual reaction to their son's sorting this evening.

"So?"

The man looked at a loss for words at her disregard for his apparent crisis, but she really didn't see the big deal. So their son had been sorted into Hufflepuff. He was with Remus and Tonks' son Teddy, and Frank Longbottom had been sorted into the House with him as well, so Dolph would have friends. And seeing her son's smiling face during the welcoming feast had solidified in for her. He would be fine.

"How is he a Hufflepuff?"

"He's a particularly good finder," she quipped and outright laughed at the affronted look on her wizard's face.

"I'm serious, _pchelka_."

"As am I," she replied before looking back down at her magazine. She felt the couch shift under his weight as he sat down next to her.

"Are you sure he's our son?" He asked suddenly.

Whipping the mass of papers down onto her lap, she turned to glare at the man before exclaiming, "He looks _just_ like you Antonin. _Of_ _course_ he's your bloody son."

"He has your nose," he muttered to no one in particular.

Huffing in disbelief, she picked the magazine back up, but not before replying, "Just because Rodolphus is a Hufflepuff and enjoys Quidditch, doesn't mean he isn't a part of this family. If anything, I think he acts more like you than you'd like to admit."

"You don't like to admit Lucille's like you," he pointed out.

He turned his head when he saw the glare she was sending his way, but she knew he had a point about that as well. Lucille was, for lack of a better phrase, a bossy swot. She was almost exactly like Hermione when she was that age. Except Lucy had a touch more Slytherin to her. Which explained her and her sister's House.

Lucille was much more like her godfather. Why she ever let Antonin chose Lucius Malfoy to be a godfather of one of their children, she'll never know. But she did admit that he wasn't a bad one. He spoiled her to no end and doted on all of their children, but he wasn't awful.

Professor McGonagall on the other hand… She had tried to put her foot down on that one because she didn't want any of her children scarred for life, but she and Masha actually seemed to get along pretty well. She was eager to learn and practically idolized her godmother. And to her surprise, McGonagall was greatly honored and took her role very seriously.

Dolph felt as though he got the sweetest end of the deal though, with Harry Potter for his godfather.

He was surprisingly her husband's first choice for their son. And Hermione didn't mind it one bit.

Her attention returned to her husband as she heard his large sigh from next to her. Looking over at him, she met his eye as he dryly said, "He gets it from you."

Grinning at his absurdity, she reached over to pull herself into his lap. "I think you need a better lesson, Professor Dolohov. I'm much naughtier than any Hufflepuff."

"Why, Professor Granger. I'm certain that's one lesson I won't want to miss," he husked back as she chuckled against his lips.

It was no surprise that he enjoyed using her title all most as much as she liked using his. Because after he had taken the Charms position, and she had finished all of her training…

She had taken the Magical Theory position.

* * *

"Antonin, stay after for a moment please," the Headmistress requested as their meeting came to a close. Internally groaning, Antonin shot a look at the cheeky grin on his wife's face as she sashayed out of the room after having teased him for the entirety of the two-hour meeting.

He still despised them, even after twenty plus years.

Especially now that he couldn't just go back to his rooms and ravish his mischievous wife.

"Yes, Headmistress?" He said as everyone trickled out and they were left alone together.

"Minerva please, how many times have I told you that," she chastised lightly as he came to stand in front of her. He couldn't help but shake his head slightly.

"Plenty. It's just difficult for me to regard you without the respect you deserve."

"Well knock it off. I'm not dead or martyred yet."

The two shared a brief huff of laughter before he asked, "What was it that you wanted to speak to me about?"

"I was just checking in on you. Things have really changed in the past twenty years. You've helped to defeat a Dark Lord, gotten married, and had children while simultaneously teaching even more of them. I wanted to make sure you hadn't begun to have an existential crisis or the like."

He rolled his eyes at the notion of it before replying, "I'm perfectly fine, _Minerva_. Happy and fulfilled and… whole."

"Is it different?"

"An entirely different world from where I used to be," he responded fondly, thinking back to the first time he saw that familiar head of curly hair and moving on to the first time he saw the curly heads of his daughters after they had been born.

"But still better," she said, stating the fact, not asking a question. Until a few moments later, that is. "I had an ulterior motive for asking you to stay," she admitted.

"I figured as much," he drawled, having felt his Slytherin senses picking up on it.

"Something has been weighing on my mind, for a while now. Do you remember the night Albus died? You had been so worried about being killed that you disclosed something to me before you left and sealed my memories of it," she explained, reminding him of that exact moment.

And he remembered. It had been one of the most stressful moments of his entire life. Besides dealing with his little witch while she was in labor. He still stood to the suspicion that she had broken a bone in his hand.

"You were wondering what exactly I had told you?" He finished for her. She nodded and he looked down slightly before smiling.

"I told you about my mother and sister and where they were located. Someone needed to know if I had died that night," he told her.

"You know I figured as much," she said with a pleasant smile. But he held up his hand as she went to stand. He wasn't finished yet.

"I had also asked you to tell Hermione that I loved her. That I had always loved her and wasn't strong enough to tell her. But that it was true nonetheless."

He watched one of the bravest women he knew besides his own mother tear up at his confession before she threw her arms around him and pulled him in for a tight embrace.

"You are the best man I could have ever hoped for that girl," she whispered to him and Antonin felt his own emotions welling up deep inside of him.

"Thank you…"

"You continue taking care of her and allowing her to take care of you."

"Always," he promised.

And he meant it. Once he had her, he knew that there was no chance of him ever giving her up.

From her professor to her lover to her boyfriend to her husband… He would never change a single moment of it. Not for anything in the world.

 _ **The End**_


End file.
